Requiem For An Angel
by hotaruchan2002
Summary: The continuation of the third movie, a new OC, bigger and better cast, and what should've been done in the Final Stand but didn't.
1. Chapter 1

Requiem for an Angel

Written by: hotaruchan2002 and meg the fierce lady

A/N: We started this story way back in July when Hotaru-chan dragged Meg (she's so antisocial -.-) to the theatres. As usual, we got to chatting about the whole thing and what would happen next. Then we decided how we would make it awesome. Enter Brenna. Hotaru-chan claims full ownership much to Brenna's chagrin… (Hotaru: Oi!) and well… the rest is history… or will be.

Disclaimer: we own nothing, except Brenna. No touchy the Brenna or we'll come after you with trout and koi! Anywho, on with the fic!

Chapter One

Erik sat at the chess table, staring at the pieces. He slowly moved his hand, willing the piece in front of him to move. Slowly, the piece wobbled lightly, then stopped.

He was startled when a breeze rushed through the trees, heralding the arrival of a youthful woman with black hair and amazing eyes that seemed to pierce straight into his mind, yet did not have the disconcerting resonance that often came with a telepath. Instead, it was a strange sensation, a persistence of memory that seemed forever out of his grasp.

She smiled.

"It's been a long time, Erik," she said, sitting down, uninvited, across from him. She searched his face for a long moment, weathered and anciently weary, and her brilliant smile faltered. "It's been too long… You don't recognize me, do you?"

"Do I know you?" Lehnsherr asked, bluntly. He looked back down at the chessboard, seeming to dismiss the strange woman.

"You've grown old since the last time I saw you." She chuckled, as she leaned in toward him, capturing his wrist in her hand. "Maybe that will remind you," she answered, tracing the faded blue numbers in his skin.

Lehnsherr looked at the abhorrence, the tattooing a painful reminder. He pulled his arm from her grasp.

"Erik, look at me," the woman spoke softly, and there was some strange compulsion stirring within Lehnsherr's mind, warring with the bitterness in his heart, to just look up, just look into those eyes again.

He gasped. "Those eyes! I could never forget those eyes."

"Yes, Erik. You were but a little boy then. You were so innocent in the face of such horror. When did you let the darkness change you?"

"I have embraced change, whether it be light or dark." He replied softly. "Time changes some people."

"Indeed," the woman spoke, "I suppose time is the reason I am here. I have changed as well. I never did tell you my name, Erik." She extended her soft hand toward him, "hi, my name is Brenna. Brenna Walsh."

"And why are you here now, Angel of Mercy?" Lehnsherr murmured.

"I've always been here, watching from the sidelines. I've just kept my distance from the fighting." she answered. "When I was born, I was revered as a goddess by my clan. My tears could heal the sick or dying. I could fly, be reborn..." she trailed off, an evil grin on her face. "I could be vengeance, justice." She looked him over again. "I wept the day they "cured" you. Oh yes, I was there. I wept, and wept." she said, producing a vial of clear liquid.

Lehnsherr eyed the vial before looking back into Brenna's eyes. "Your tears, I presume."

"Your cure."

She got up, and began to walk away from him. "Think on it, Erik. You can either accept that you're now a human, or regain your former strength and become a god again."

Lehnsherr's eyes widened as he contemplated the vial. He stood up quickly and spun, looking for Brenna, the Angel of Mercy, the woman whom he met once as a child, the woman who once displayed proudly and openly her vast down of black wings. But she was gone, as though she had never been there, except for one perfect, ebony feather. He bent over to scoop it up and feather and vial in hand, he left.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! We live off them, but sadly it doesn't pay the rent. Anyways, here's the next chapter, short but sweet! There is more to come!

Meg: Also, I did most of the French, so if they suck, yell at me, not Hotaru.

Chapter Two

It was a cool night in San Francisco. The high society masquerade took place in the penthouse of one of Worthington Industries skyscrapers.

Erik Lehnsherr was impeccable in his suit, cravat at his throat, and his coattails curving around his legs and stopping in a straight cut at his knees. He had ingested a single swallow of Brenna's tears and had felt an immediate return to his former glory. Behind his metallic mask that stayed on his face by virtue of his powers, he searched the large room for one Ms. Raven Darkholme.

Regret had never been felt so deeply as he felt it at that moment, when he had forsaken his second in command, his lieutenant of a thousand faces simply because a few strands of her genetic code had been altered. He gripped the vial in his pocket, feeling its reassuring and steady weight in his hand. He would offer to Raven his apologies, his regrets. He would offer her salvation.

From the corner of the room, a masked angel watched Erik begin his search. A smile crept across her face as she began to move towards the refreshments table. She selected a flute of champagne, and sipped it contently while watching the crowd. _Foolish mortals_ she thought, _I enjoy your evening, for a new breed of gods will soon arise._

Her attention was suddenly diverted, when she saw the most beautiful man she had ever beheld step into the room. His white mask, inlaid with pearls and silken strands of feathers obscured his face, but could never distract from his bright blue eyes. His wings, grand and well crafted, were testament to his wealth. The pure white down streamlined smoothly along his back and his tailored suit molded to his body.

He was an exquisite man, a paragon of angels, and Brenna was struck quite suddenly with an intense longing. She wished to speak to him, even if his wings were false, it took a measure of a man to step into a room with such things tendered, and if only for a night, Brenna would allow herself the illusion of not being quite so alone.

As she took the first step toward the blond masked man, she bumped into someone. Startled, she apologized even as her mind processed the elaborate costume of the tall man she had run into. Dressed immaculately in a black jacket, slacks and tie, crimson silk shirt and shiny black shoes, the entire ensemble took a back seat to the man's eyes. They were intensely beautiful, red irises on black sclera that should have shocked her but didn't. A red silk mask covered only the upper half of his face, and two tiny horns peeked out at the edges under strands of silken auburn hair.

"Ah, mon ange, I was wondering where you had flown off to," he grinned charmingly, as he tried to wrap an arm around her waist. She smacked him hard, grinning in feral satisfaction at the loud thwack sound her hand made.

"Listen, pal, try that again and you might lose a hand." she growled. Then she attempted to move away from him.

"Nonsense, ma chere," the Devil smirked rakishly, "your beautiful black wings only tell me you have fallen to my domain--"

"I'm warning you," Brenna snarled, "back off."

"I do believe the lady said back off, sir," a voice said from behind her. The voice sent a jolt through Brenna's body.

The masked Devil raised his hands in surrender, "the Devil could never get in enter deux anges. You be a matched pair, far better than I." The Devil's red on black eyes twinkled and he gallantly bowed, before departing.

"I think he just stole that woman's diamond necklace," Brenna commented, "and she didn't even notice."

"I think you just stole my heart," Warren said, taking Brenna's idle comment for a joke, and a rebound for his admittedly cheesy comment.

Brenna nearly choked on her champagne. She looked up to get a better look at the man who had just helped her. He looked even better in person. Blonde hair that just waited to be touched, strong protective arms...even the wings looked natural on him, as if they were a part of him.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Warren spoke warmly, "I am Warren Worthington the Third." He paused, seemingly to expect something from Brenna, recognition and familiarity. Brenna offered him nothing but a smile and her hand.

"Brenna Walsh. The first," she spoke in good humour. " So what brings you to such an event?"

"My father," Warren smiled sheepishly beneath his masque, "this is his way of telling me that he's sorry." For Warren Worthington the Second, emotions were a hard thing to show his son. Even when all was said and done, Warren knew his father loved him and was proud of him. When he had saved his father's life, saving him from a deadly fall with his gift, an avenue for reparations had been opened.

"Personally I prefer a hand written letter or just being told," she said politely.

"And why have you found your way here tonight, black angel?" he asked, looking her from head to toe.

Brenna flushed delicately under his perusal. She knew exactly what he was seeing. She presented a toned body and bluish pale skin, not that much of that mutagenic effect could be seen in her ensemble. Her mask covered her face and she wore a black dress with sheer red accents covering her sleeves, dangling between her wings. It was a matter of extreme personal patience that her wings remained still.

"Let's just say, I'm watching over an old friend," she smiled coyly. She noticed that he had stopped his look over and his gaze rested on her wings. "I like your wings as well. They are exquisitely well done. May I touch them?"

Warren was wary of allowing someone else to touch his wings, but there was something about this woman that he felt he could trust. Still, he was not without his father's famous negotiation skills.

"You can touch," he smiled charmingly, "if I can touch yours."

Slightly alarmed that he wanted to touch her wings, she hesitantly nodded at the deal. She reached out, letting her finger trail down the arch of his wing. It was so soft, the feathers felt real, like hers, not like the usual fake ones. As she reached mid way, she felt a slight tremble coming from Warren. She looked at his face and saw a look of pleasure in his eyes at her caress.

She pulled her hand back, shocked by the realization that he was also gifted with wings like hers. Not knowing what to think, she turned and began to rush away from him. She needed time to think, needed time for all this to sink in. She knew Warren was asking her to come back, knew he must have been following after her, but she had the lead, and before he could step foot outside, she launched herself skyward.

Ignorant of the drama that occurred across the room, Raven Darkholme fostered her new ties with the politically affluent and powerfully wealthy men and women in the room. She had always been an independent woman, as a mutant, she had to be, but now she was human, powerless. Even though she was human, weak and powerless, she never stopped seeking new opportunities to gain protection for herself.

She simply had to do it in a different way.

Never, since he spurned her, had Raven ever thought Erik Lehnsherr would seek her out. She would recognize him anywhere, even with a mask concealing his face, but she was unsure of his intentions. She would never allow herself to misjudge another's character ever again. She would never allow herself to trust blindly as she had for that man.

And now, that man stood before her, waiting for her. Waiting for what, she didn't know.

"Lehnsherr." She said, darkly.

"There was a time when you would have called me Erik."

"Those days are over, Lehnsherr. What was it you said in that prison truck? Oh yeah, I _"you're not one of us anymore."_ Nice to know loyalty is so cheap for you."

Erik was chagrined, and he looked away.

Raven stared at Lehnsherr, not willing to give him respite, and not willing to give into the sigh of disgust and grief that threatened to overwhelm her once again. Rejection was not something that Darkholme handled well, at least not being on the receiving end of it. Her voice was neutral and did not betray any of her turbulent emotions as she asked, "Why are you here, Lehnsherr?"

"I've come to offer my apologies, Mystique." Erik said eloquently.

"Not accepted." Raven said hotly, "and the name's Raven Darkholme. I'm not Mystique anymore."

Erik almost decided to walk away, but he knew she could be stubborn at times. Sighing, he produced the vial of Brenna's tears. "I'm apologizing in the most sincerest form I know." He showed her the vial. "I've come to offer your life back. Your life, not this sham, I've come to make you a goddess again."

Raven watched. Her eyes were almost wide as he floated the vial to her. There was a band of metal around the glass and she looked up to his eyes, even as she accepted the vial in her hand.

"The cure?" she asked.

Lehnsherr's mouth quirked in amusement at Darkholme's wording, the expression of humour hidden by the masque. The so-called cure for the mutancy had been a virus to Mystique, an anathema to who and what she was. Brenna's tears were Mystique's return to her seat of power, the cure of the shackles of homo sapien, an escape from the Mundane's destiny. Mystique hated the Flatscan's fate, convinced the life she had as homo superior was the better one.

"What's the catch?" she asked.

"A sip, a mere taste will restore you to the glory you once were. All I ask in return that you forgive an old man's error in judgment," Lehnsherr spoke, "and that you stand by my side once more."

Mystique looked at Erik carefully, and then the vial. She wanted to forgive him, but how could she trust him to not turn on her?

"You will never live to regret hurting me again," Mystique warned, pocketing the vial. "I'll have my sources analyze this. If you've lied to me, I'll give you the benefit of never seeing me again. Good night," Darkholme moved closer to Lehnsherr, and her voice was a mere hiss of a whisper, "Magneto."

She slid past him and walked out of the room.

Lehnsherr watched her go, heavy heart lightened by a smidgen of hope.

The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving Warren sitting by the table, looking at the glass of champagne he was holding like the crystal flute held all the answers to his questions. It was at that moment, ripples disturbed the surface of the bubbly liquid. He looked up, into the night that was beginning to rain. It had been overcast the entire evening, dark foreboding clouds haunting the sky until the pressure finally burst and the sky trembled with the force of its tears.

He stood, making his way to the water fountain that had gone silent and still. Ripples marred the surface of the water on a larger scale, and he felt a serious feeling of anticipation. Something was about to happen.

"An earthquake?" he wondered aloud. California was prone to such events, and he prepared himself for the potential devastation. Several long minutes passed, but all remained still.

"Warren." The woman's voice startled him from his daydream. He turned to see the masked woman who had fled from him.

"Brenna." He answered.

"I had to wait, until they were gone. This is something we need to be alone for."

"What's the matter?" he inquired, noting her nervous face.

"I'm sorry I ran away earlier. There's just, something, I couldn't," she stuttered, looking at her shoes.

She hesitated, "in all my years, I have never met another who had wings as I do. You may be the light to my dark. I--" she hesitated, then strode forward with a sudden purpose. "I touched your wings. Now, you can touch mine." She extended one toward Warren's shocked form.

Warren suddenly smiled, and Brenna felt relief flood her system as she felt his tender fingers stroke her wing.

"I'm not..."

"You're not what?" Warren asked.

"I'm not alone, anymore."

She stared at her feet again, not sure what else to say. Warren moved in and caught her chin in his hand. He raised her head and leaned in for a kiss. They were less than an inch from each other when someone called Warren's name.

"What is it, father?" Warren inquired, turning to face his father.

"Ah, Warren," his father stepped closer, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No sir," Warren smiled suddenly, "Father, this is Brenna Walsh, Brenna this is my father, Warren Worthington the Second."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Worthington," Brenna nodded.

"Those are some very life like wings you have Brenna."

"Thank you, sir."

"Son, I was hoping to get your opinion on a few things."

"Um, father, can we possibly talk about this later?"

"I see, I did interrupt something, I'm sorry, son."

Warren turned back to face Brenna but was astonished to find that she was gone again.

"Actually, dad," Warren called to his retreating father's back.

"Yes, son?" Worthington senior looked back.

Warren smiled awkwardly, "it seems I'm available for the moment. What did you want to talk about?"

The Worthingtons smiled at each other and walked out of the room, talking to each other in low voices.

Brenna sighed in relief.

Hiding behind the archway, Brenna watched Warren walk away. Her heart fluttered against her chest, then shook her head. He would make the perfect god to her goddess. She wanted to make him hers, all hers.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Huzzah for next chapter! In which there are glimmerings of (gasp) plot? Yes, yes, there is! It's a little like being hit by a 2 by 4 when one realizes that plot actually made it into one's story. Thanks for all your reviews! Much love from the authoresses. Enjoy!

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Chapter Three

Magneto sat behind his desk, thinking about what was happening. His Angel of Mercy had helped him again, helped him to continue his mission for mutant kind.

The door to his office opened, and Brenna strode in, straddling the chair in front of his desk and spreading her black wings.

"Brenna, I was just thinking about you, old friend."

"Were you?" Brenna asked.

"Thanks to you, I have my birthright back."

"Don't mention it."

"I gave your tears to Mystique. I hope she forgives me, and rejoins my cause."

"Erik," Brenna said, "I forgive you."

Before his startled gaze, Brenna's already marble blue skin became an iridescent blue and the familiar form of his lieutenant emerged from the disguise. Lehnsherr stood, and Mystique stepped up toward him, resting a comfortable hand on his shoulder. He laid his hand on top of it and smiled with hope and gladness in his heart.

"Thank you for forgiving an old man." Erik said, patting her hand gently.

"So who is this Brenna?" Mystique inquired, sitting on the side of his desk. "I saw her, briefly at the party," Mystique continued, revealing the consummate agent. She was always aware of her surroundings. "I took her form because it suited me. It's amazing what one discovers when others feel secure."

Lehnsherr took no offense. He only smiled. "In 1944, I was a prisoner in Auschwitz. If there was ever a hell on Earth, that place was it. Hundreds of us died in the ovens.

"One day, after many times I asked for a miracle, she showed up. A glorious angel of mercy, she came night after night, taking the dead away, killing the weakest ones. She granted them merciful death.

"She was distant, cold, a warrior. The dying cries seemed to pierce nothing of her facade. Then one day, I lay near death. I was weak; my powers could not save me. She appeared that night, and knelt over me. She wept. The grief and horror seemed too much for her, and she wept. Her tears fell on me. Then it was as though I were reborn, youthful and vibrant again."

"And then?" Mystique asked.

"And then, the war was over," Magneto said. "I came to America, searching for peace and hope, the Land of Milk and Honey. I met Charles, and I never laid eyes on my Angel of Death until a few days ago.

"I always wondered where she was, what she was doing. Then, she became a distant memory."

"And now she's back, what does she want?" Mystique inquired.

"That is the question, Mystique. That is the question."

"Indeed, a very good question." Brenna replied, leaning against the doorframe. "To which I have the answer, of course."

"And that is?" Mystique asked, leaning against Magneto's desk.

"What we all want. Freedom. I want freedom from all the pain and hatred of Mundanes who hate and fear us. I want to ensure that we are never hunted ever again."

"Go on, my Angel of Mercy."

"How do we go about this? We make them view us as higher beings. And if they don't, we'll destroy them."

Mystique looked at Magneto before turning back to Brenna, "we've tried that tactic before. And failed."

"And why have we failed?"

"The X-Men. They've always been there to save the day, and lay ruin to our plans," Lehnsherr said, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"Then we shall change their minds, make them view things our way."

Mystique cocked her head, and turned to Magneto, smirking, "you don't change the X-men's minds. Pyro was an anomaly. A better answer would be to attack while they are weak. Their beloved Professor is dead," Lehnsherr flinched at this, "Cyclops and Pheonix both dead. Their numbers are few, divided. I even hear that our tool has taken the cure so she can no longer suck the life out of everything she touches."

"Raven, you're cruel," Magneto chuckled.

"But honest."

Brenna grinned. She was beginning to like Mystique.

"So what does the X-Men team include?" Brenna inquired.

This time Magneto was the one to reply. "They have Storm, who can control the weather, one who can control ice, another who can pass through walls. There's another young man who can turn himself into metal, as well as Wolverine: a mutant who can regenerate and heal himself rapidly. Who has a bone structure made of adamantium, and three claws on each hand."

"Latest intelligence indicates that Beast is in Washington at the moment," Mystique said, all business once again. "A man with strength as vast as his intellect, which is quite... impressive."

"Is that admiration in your voice, Mystique?" Lehnsherr asked wryly.

"You know me, Erik," Mystique replied slyly, "I'm impressed with any man with superior intellect. I'm with you, after all."

Brenna grinned, nodding her head. She had seen Beast during the battle. He was quite impressive she had to admit. However, if this was all the X-Men had, then how come Magneto had always lost?

"Brenna, can you manufacture more of your tears of healing? We have a lot of comrades fallen in battle to the... virus." Magneto said as though he had tasted something foul.

"It may take a while Erik, I'm not a machine you know. But I'm sure with enough sappy romantic movies I could produce some more." Brenna chuckled. "How many are you looking to heal?"

"All of them. They are our brothers. We must not let them flounder in the dark without their birthrights."

"While the entity that took over Jean Grey," Mystique interjected, "killed some of them, there are many more survivors who are doing just that: surviving."

"It's no way to live," Lehnsherr added, "powerless, lost, afraid."

"Sounds like someone before they met me." Brenna replied. "It may take me some time though, Erik, remember that."

"Very well," Magneto capitulated. "For now, we must plan to keep the X-Men out of the way so that you and all of us can ascend to our rightful place as Gods."

"Sounds like you have a plan, Erik. Care to tell us?" Brenna inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Brenna, have you heard of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters...?" Erik asked.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Gracias for all the comments, we hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for reading!

hr size1 width100 noshade Chapter Four

Ororo hurried down the stairs to answer the summons of the intermittent ringing of the doorbell. She opened the door to find a young woman, soaked head to toe waiting there patiently.

"Is this Xavier's School for the gifted?" the young woman asked, looking Ororo up and down.

"Yes, come inside, you're soaked to the bone." Ororo replied, moving to let her in. As the girl moved past her she noticed a pair of wet black wings. "What brings you here?"

"I needed a place to stay. I heard this was a school for mutants. My parents turned me out because of my wings." She said, mournfully. "I made my way here when I heard about you."

"Well, you can stay here as long as you'd like. Just give us a few minutes to find out a room," Ororo said. Then she stopped, "I'm sorry, I don't know your name." Brenna opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, someone answered for her.

"Brenna?"

"Warren!" Brenna looked toward the blond who had just turned the corner, "I didn't know you would be here."

"I wasn't expecting you to be here either," Warren smiled, warmly. He saw that she was drenched and his manly instincts took over. "You must be cold, lets get you warm and dry," his wings fluttered in his agitation, "what happened, why aren't you wearing a raincoat?"

"You're starting to sound like a mother, Warren." Brenna teased.

"Come along, Brenna," Ororo smiled, trying hard not to laugh. "I think we have some dry clothes you can change into."

"I'll show you around once you're dry." Warren added.

Meanwhile, in the not too distant future...

Magneto was relaxing. His favourite way to relax was to sit at his desk and utilize his powers to control the metal balls clacking in a pendulum. Visitors often found the device fascinating because there were no wires supporting the spheres to perpetuate the swinging action. Of course, even more fascinating was the action of the balls falling to the desk and rolling to the floor when Magneto left the vicinity.

Mystique arrived in his sanctum carrying a laptop. "I have Mr. Sinister on the line," she said, setting the laptop on the desk in front of Magneto. Lehnsherr visibly pulled back his powers to avoid corrupting the computer data. Mystique tapped a button and a chalk white face with serrated teeth and near glowing red eyes appeared in the video window.

"Mr. Sinister," Magneto spoke, "have you thought about the deal?"

"I dearly adore the samples you have given me," Mr. Sinister revealed his teeth in a deadly smile. "I can replicate the effects of the sodium solution from your subject. As for the cure, I have already studied it and can easily alter it to effect change in humans. Tests have shown the cure to be highly effective in humans who have latent mutations."

Magneto knew what Mr. Sinister meant by "tests." His lab had prisoners taken from the streets, homeless to be used and thrown away. They wouldn't be missed.

"There is a 75 probability of the cure doing the task. As for my payment, I require genetic samples of these subjects of whom I am sending you the information. The subjects themselves would be most rewarding if possible."

Magneto looked at the file that had uploaded. Three people. He closed his eyes.

"Two are dead," he informed Mr. Sinister, "of the third, I will let you know."

"I am aware of Scott Summers and Jean Grey's apparent demise," Mr. Sinister smirked, "however, you have access to the Mansion, and their genetic samples. Get them."

"Very well, Mr. Sinister. You shall have it."

"Mr. Sinister, out."

"So, who's the third on Mr.Sinister's list? Who by the way is rather creepy." Mystique inquired, bending over to read the list.

"Remy LeBeau, a.k.a. Gambit."

"Gambit!" Raven was momentarily speechless, "why would he be on Mr. Sinister's radar?"

"You know of him?" Magneto inquired.

"Know him?" Mystique chuckled, "I've operated with him on more than one occasion. His services as a thief are highly lucrative. At one time, he operated out of the Thieves Guild in New Orleans with the Lebeau Clan before an altercation with the Assassins Guild had him 'excommunicated', to use a word, and exiled from his hometown. He's the Third highest Master Thief."

"In New Orleans?"

"In the world," Mystique rarely had awe in her voice, and Magneto heard it when she spoke of Gambit.

"Impressive," Magneto commented, blandly.

"Very. I'd hate to sell him out to Mr. Sinister. Who knows what fate that monster has for Remy."

"Indeed, but those are his demands, and we must meet them if we wish to have his help in our little endeavor. Shall we pass on our needs to our Angel?"

"For Summers' and Grey's genetic samples, yes. As for our thief, I'll make contact with him." Mystique agreed.

"Then let us begin the next phase of our plan." Magneto smiled, handing a cell phone to Mystique. "Do your magic, my dear."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Meg: Hey H, gimme an A/N: … (pauses, then grins evilly, and acts like a cheerleader) A! Forward slash! N! Semicolon! Yay team!

Hotaru: (facecpalm) No more sugar for you! (takes sugar away)

Meg: (pouts)

Pretend there is a line break here. I've given up on lack of compliance with my coding. -Meg

Chapter Five

Brenna clung to Warren's arm as he began the tour of the mansion. She felt safe with him around, not so lonely anymore. They walked down the hall to a main common room where Bobby and Rogue sat together watching a movie.

"Bobby, Rogue, this is Brenna Walsh, Brenna, Bobby and Rogue."

"It's really nice to meet you both." Brenna smiled, giving them a wave.

Warren nodded to them and then led Brenna towards the solarium that housed the conservatory. Brenna was taken aback at the beauty of the glass room filled with flowers. "It's beautiful in here." Brenna said, looking over everything.

"Warren, I think I might be getting a cold," Brenna sniffled, "I think I'd like to take a hot shower and then go to bed."

"Of course," Warren agreed, solicitously, though he didn't want to let this girl out of his sight again. He guided her to her new room and bade her good night.

"Warren," she called.

He turned, "yes?"

"I... thanks. For the tour."

"Anytime," Warren smiled. "I'm in the boy's wing, just across the stairs over there if you need me. First door on the right."

"Thank you, Warren." Brenna blushed, looking at him for an odd moment. Suddenly, she jumped up on her toes and kissed Warren quickly before retreating into her room. Warren stood there for a good minute before Bobby came up behind him.

"Uh, Warren, that's a doorway. You either walk in or out of it." Bobby teased, then noticed the shocked look on his face. "She kissed you didn't she? Well, congrats man."

"Uh, thanks," Warren said, still in a daze. "I'll, uh, be, uh... over there."

"I'm just walking Rogue to her room," Bobby grinned again, "far be it from me to tease the new boy, but--"

"Sugar, leave the poor boy alone," Rogue smiled. She smiled more now that she could touch people again. More specifically, she could touch her boyfriend. "Aren't ya going to walk me to my room?"

"Yes dear," Bobby said, grinning, "catch you later, man."

"Yes. Later," Warren waved, still dazed.

Brenna settled into her room and pulled out her laptop from her bag. Thank God she had invested in a waterproof backpack. She turned it on, and waited for a wireless hook up. She logged into her email and found one waiting for her from Magneto. She read the email over twice, and noted the two names she had to search for. Having not been shown the basement, Brenna smiled contently that she now had an excuse to go snooping around the mansion.

Brenna decided to wait for the Witching hour before doing her sneaky work. She took advantage of the luxurious shower available to her and tended to her wings. Wings needed care, else they would not allow her to fly. Feathers had to be straightened and plucked. Finished with her wings, she brushed her hair and pulled it back in a ponytail.

The digital clock on the bare bed stand showed the time in red: 12:00 am.

Brenna opened the door a crack to make sure Warren wasn't still standing in front of it, before she slipped out of the room. She walked down the hallway and then down the stairs to the first floor. She went from one end to the other looking for another set of stairs that would lead her to the basement but found none.

Brenna began to worry her lower lip when she couldn't find the stairs. She was just about to head back to her room when she turned and ran into a muscular body.

"Whoa there, Feathers. Where do you think you're going?" A masculine voice inquired. Brenna looked up at a pair of wild brown eyes staring right back at her.

"I'm sorry," she said in her best innocent voice. "I'm new here and I got lost. This place is just so big."

"Ah, well, you better learn your way around here soon then," Logan replied, taking a step away from her.

"Wait, I bet a clever, strong man like you could show me the way back to my room." She said, grabbing his arm.

"If memory serves me right, we had one clear room left, so I'm going to bet you're in that one." Logan began to move towards where she had just come. "This way."

They made their way to the wing where her bedroom was located. Brenna knew exactly where her room was, but they took a different route to get there than the path lead by Warren. Logan paused, almost imperceptibly at a door, before he moved on.

Brenna, however, stopped to look. "Who lives here?"

"No one," Logan said, gruffly, "she's dead."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was curious. Also, you said that you guys had one clear room left, isn't this room free?"

"It's not clear," he growled, "if I have anything to say about it."

Brenna knew to back off, and she smiled placatingly, "sorry."

"Don't worry about it," the feral man seemed to vanish, and it was just Logan once again, the extreme wildness fading into the woodwork.

"You loved her didn't you?" she asked, quietly.

"Yes, I did." Logan replied just as quietly. They continued their way to Brenna's room and Brenna opened the door a bit.

"Thank you for showing me back to my room. My name's Brenna. I hope to see you around..." she trailed off.

"Logan."

"Good night, Logan."

Closing the door, Brenna let loose an explosive breath. Mystique was so going to catch hell from her! She plopped on the bed, her spread wings slowing the fall, and she typed in the password to turn off the screensaver. She typed a fast and angry e-mail to the red haired, blue skinned mutant, for wasting her time and sending her in enemy territory unprepared.

Sending the mail off, and a few minutes later, a window in her computer popped up.

**RavenD:** And hello to you, too. Thank you for the pleasant e-mail.

**B-Angel**: I'll give you pleasant e-mail!#$

**RavenD:** Well, aren't we a ray of sunshine.

**RavenD:** Such language. I'm sending you plans for the sublevels. I had thought a woman of your esteem would have been able to find the top-secret entrance to the sublevels.

**B-Angel:** What do you mean, "able to find the top secret entrance to the sublevels"! It's TOP SECRET! It's not like they put a big honking sign up!

**RavenD:** You're a woman, you couldn't have used your feminine charms to get someone to help you find it?

**B-Angel**: Riight, Warren doesn't have a clue, I don't think, and Logan… Well, let's just say Logan would take quite a bit of persuasion.

**RavenD:** Warren huh? Is this the infamous Warren Worthington the second? He's at the school?

**B-Angel:** Ewww, no! Not that old guy. The hot, blond bombshell: Warren Worthington the _Third_. And yes, he's at the school. You don't miss much do you?

**RavenD:** My dear, it's my job to know everything.

**B-Angel**: Ah, well, you didn't seem to know enough to send me in with the floor plans.

**RavenD**: Minor hiccup. Do you need anything else? Coffee? Tea? A change of diapers? Need me to hold your hand?

**RavenD**: I could get you a night lite if you need one.

**B-Angel:** My dearest blue friend, I'm older than you, don't patronize me so. As for if I need anything, I'm fine at the moment. Tell Erik, I say hello and I will have everything he needs by the end of the week if I'm lucky.

**RavenD**:Will do, Raven out.

The window vanished as if it had never been and Brenna checked the e-mail account once more. The plans were in an attachment labeled Baby-Brenna-Pictures.jpg. Gritting her teeth, Brenna snorted, "as if I ever had baby pictures. They didn't have cameras in 800 B.C."

She clicked on the attachment and spent the next twenty minutes studying the plans. It was extremely late by the time she looked up, and considering the rest of the night a loss, she decided to go to sleep and try again the next night.

Warren hesitated before knocking on Brenna's door, the next morning. When he didn't hear any answering call, he opened the door a bit.

"Rise and shine sleepy head!" He said. He was greeted by a pillow flying out the door and ended up hitting the wall across the hall. "Come on, you've slept in enough."

This time Warren was capable of closing the door before the pillow hit him.

"Having trouble getting yon fair maiden out of bed, Wings?" A familiar voice said. Warren turned to face Logan who was standing there holding two mugs of coffee.

"Here, watch the pro." Logan moved to the door, opened it a bit and said. "Get up, Feathers. I've got coffee." Brenna bolted upright at the mention of caffeine. Warren felt a twinge of jealousy that he hadn't thought of that before.

"Well, it's a bright sunny day today," Warren reported, "not that you would know, given your drapery being closed."

Brenna wasn't really awake yet, though she was so attached to her cup of coffee that it would take surgery to part the angel from the mug. She mumbled something that made Logan snort with suppressed laughter.

Warren sent a glare at Logan.

"She said you sound so chipper this morning, she's wondered how many cups of coffee you've had." Logan replied, still suppressing laughter.

"I sound... chipper?" Warren wished he had a mug of coffee to sip so that he wouldn't have to speak, "I'm a Worthington. Worthingtons aren't... chipper."

"Would you prefer bubbly?" Brenna asked, grinning now that her coffee mug was empty. At this, Logan couldn't help but laugh.

Warren discreetly rolled his eyes, "of course, bubbly is so much better. All things Worthington can be described with adjectives usually involving champagne. Very classy."

Brenna stuck her tongue out and handed Logan her mug. "If you gentlemen would excuse me, I would like to get dressed." Warren and Logan looked at each other, then turned their backs, but didn't leave the room. Brenna sighed, "Patience. Must have patience. Nah, patience are for fools and Saints, and I'm neither." So muttering, she picked up the pillow that didn't make it out of the room and hit both of them with it. "Out, out damned spots! Out I say!"

"She makes a charming Lady MacBeth," Warren muttered to Logan as the door slammed shut behind them.

"What does that make you? MacBeth?" Logan retorted.

Warren was surprised at this, "but I thought... aren't you..."

"What? Attracted? Nah, she's too old for me," and at Warren's nonplussed expression, Logan tapped his nose, "the nose," he said, "it never lies."

"How old do you think she is?"

"Old enough," Logan smirked as he pulled out a cigar from somewhere.

"Don't you boys know it's not polite to speculate about a lady's age?" Brenna leaned against the doorjamb, an eyebrow raised.

"I missed that day in Kindergarten," Logan drawled, "as for Wings here, shame on him."

"Well, no matter. I'm dressed and ready for some food. Lead on my great men." She replied grinning, linking arms with both men.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This chapter is for the usual suspects, TheHollister and shadowcat47, and for Kitty2228. Enjoy! PS-This is not a CSI crossover, I repeat, this is NOT a CSI crossover…we just happen to mention them elusively….

Chapter Six

Bells on the slot machines rang out their happy but annoying tune, letting people know that other people were having better luck than them.

The wealthy and stylish Rembrant LeBeau strode through the casino, casing the joint. His red on black eyes were hidden by a pair of expensive ray bans and a charming smile disarmed all who looked his way.

"Pardonnez moi, ma chere," his deep smoky voice purred in one of the waitresses' ears, "I would love a glass of bourbon on de rocks, s'il vous plait, petite."

The waitress giggled and flushed, then walked away to place his order. A few minutes later, she returned, carrying a tray with his drink.

"Here you go, Mr. Lebeau..." she said, noting his confused look. She let her eyes return to the usual yellow before speaking again. "Care to join me for a drink outside?"

"Raven," Gambit groaned, "not tonight, chere. I'm working."

"You're always working." she said, mocking a pout. "Come on, looks like you could use some fresh air. You're turning ghastly pale."

Remy stoutly refused to hit his head against the nearest wall repeatedly, and with a smile firmly fixed on his face, he addressed Mystique, "ma chere, Gambit's working. And when Gambit's working, he makes lots of money. He's short on money at the moment, chere. He really needs the money. Whatever it is, Gambit wants no part in it."

Raven flashed him a wad of money before tucking the green back into her purse.

"Your room or mine, my naughty, naughty girl. You need to be spanked." Remy replied, grinning. He took her by the hand and started making his way to his room, to which she gave no objection. Once they were in the elevator, Raven pushed him into the corner and began to kiss down his neck.

The bell rang marking the floor they wanted and they rushed off the elevator, nearly knocking over a young man wearing aviator sunglasses, carrying a silver case and talking on a cell phone.

"Yeah, I'm just finishing up. See you in the lab, Nick." he replied, then put away his cell phone. Remy and Raven paid no attention to him and hurried down the hallway.

The minute Raven passed over the threshold, Remy playfully pushed her to the bed, hung a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door handle and closed the door.

_Interlude_

Sounds of wild raunchy sex were heard in the neighbouring room, and the occupant sighed in frustration. The bed's headboard banged loudly against the wall in the other room, and Ecklie slammed his hand against the wall. He had come here to get some peace and quiet, something he was unable to get at his home at the moment. His place of residence was being fumigated, and he sure as hell wasn't going to sleep at any of his relatives, since they didn't know the meaning of quiet time.

However, all his banging against the wall and shouting at the lovemaking couple had absolutely no affect. While he was experienced at tearing people apart, the two lovers presented an impossible obstacle in his quest for some real shut-eye. It was probably lack of sleep that made him a real bastard at his place of work, but no one would ever know this frustration. It was too embarrassing, and he was a man that didn't like to be embarrassed.

Finally, the moaning, and squeaking of bedsprings stopped and Ecklie felt some relief. It was short lived, however, and the lovemaking started up again. He looked at his watch in astonished aggravation. The loud couple had been at it for two hours!

Ecklie rolled over and covered his head with his pillow and hoped that the noise would soon stop.

_Interlude end_

A ray of sunshine shone brightly across Remy's face. He went to rub his face with his hands and found that they were chained to the bed. He looked down and noted that his feet where also chained. A grin on his lips, he looked around. "Ma belle Raven, please come and unchain me."

Silence met him. Tugging listlessly at the handcuffs, Remy felt no real concern, but as the silence wore on, he finally cursed in his native patois. "Laissez le bons temps roullez, Remy," he muttered under his breath, "it be like old times, Remy. Why do I let myself get into these situations? Never trust a woman with that hungry look in her eyes, no matter how beau la fille be."

"Ce que? Ce que?" Remy muttered, "jamais filles de trust, ever! Now, Remy, old son. You be in a real pickle now. Raven done chained your hands and feet." Gambit let his eyes wander the room. Nothing handy within reach of his hands, and while he was flexible, he wasn't that flexible, their acrobatics the night before be damned!

He sighed, nothing for it. He slowly and steadily began the process of dislocating his left thumb and let out a huff of pain filled breath when he succeeded. Pulling his hand free, he immediately popped the joint back in, and sighed in relief from the pain. He reached over to the bed stand and pulled open a drawer. His clever and long fingers groped inside and moments later he let out a cry of triumph. Withdrawing a pen, he quickly snapped off the clip. A homemade lock pick later, he was free of the handcuffs and gathering his clothing.

Dressed in his pants and his silk shirt hanging open, he stepped into the bathroom to wash up. He found a note from Raven on the vanity. He pulled it free from the gum holding it there and quickly read it.

"Well, Gambit be damned t'hell," he murmured.

"Remy, love, sorry I left in a hurry last night but thanks for that wonderful release. Boss called, can't say no to the man. Hope to see you around. Maybe next time you'll chain me up." The note read, "P.S. Lay low for a while. I hear Bora Bora's nice this time of the year."

Crumpling the paper in his fist, Remy stared into his red on black eyes in his reflection. "You think I'm go'n a run and hide this time, Raven? Whatever troubles be coming, I'm go'n meet it head on. You always did say this son had a thick head. Bora Bora is nice, but I hear New York's the place to be."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hotaru: Um... I'm starting to run out of things to say at the beginning... Meg, you got anything to add?

Meg: giggles um... I LOVE YOU ALL!

Hotaru: Second that motion! hands out flowers to all reviewers and readers

Chapter Seven

Mystique strode in Magneto's office, her form changing from that of a curvaceous brunette to her comfortable blue self.

"Mystique," Lehnsherr greeted, "how is the silver tongued devil?"

"Still devilish as always," Mystique replied. "I have samples. Hair, mouth swabs, blood, and... sperm."

Magneto frowned, "Mr. Sinister wants Gambit himself."

"If Mr. Sinister wants Gambit, someone else is going to have to do it. I won't bring him in."

"Are you going soft on me, my dear?" Erik inquired, resting his chin on his hands.

"No, I mean, it's just..." Mystique was suddenly flustered.

"I'd say she's flustered, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say she has feelings for this roguish young man." Brenna said, entering the room. "Although I must admit, I've seen him, and his charm is quite something."

"Brenna!" Magneto's head turned toward her, "you took a huge risk to come here. You should have remained undercover at the school," he rebuked her. "You made certain you weren't followed?"

"Erik, in all the years you've known me, you'd think I'd be stupid enough to not make sure I was followed?" Brenna groaned. "Unless they implanted a tracking device in my body somewhere."

Brenna made a grand show of searching her body to Magneto's and Mystique's amusement. Still, Magneto used his power to detect any metallic substance in her body, or on it; he found nothing of concern.

Brenna casually leaned back against the door jamb once more, "so, who's Mr. Sinister?"

"Someone you very dearly do not want to meet, ever," Mystique murmured in Brenna's ear as she passed. Brenna's eyes narrowed.

Magneto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "he is a loose end, and none of your concern, Brenna."

Brenna looked him over, trying to detect any subtle hints of lying. She gave up after a minute and handed Erik two zip-locked bags containing a toothbrush and a comb. "The comb is Scott's, the toothbrush is Jean's. Now if you'll excuse me, I have plans for tonight." She smiled, heading for the door after placing two bags on Erik's desk.

"Plans that include gaining access to the sublevels and getting every single genetic sample of Grey and Summers you can find?" Magneto asked wryly.

Brenna paused in the doorway, "mmm, that too."

"Brenna!" Magneto called out, but the dark angel was gone.

At the X-Mansion…

Warren paced the solarium, every now and then looking at his watch. Where was Brenna? She was supposed to be there for their date over 20 minutes ago.

"You know, you're going to pace a rut into the tile you keep doing that." Logan drawled as he perched himself on a window ledge.

"Why are you here?" Warren snapped. Then he stopped pacing, "sorry about that," he apologized, chagrinned.

"Who's sorry about what now?" Brenna asked, walking into the centre of the solarium. She wore a gorgeous black satin dress with a slit up to the knee, heels, and her hair swept back into a twist. Her wings, as usual, were black and shiny, and delicately held in a resting position. Both men stopped and stared at her.

"Brenna, what took you so long?" Warren asked, coming up to her. Logan did a once over around Brenna.

"Warren, relax. It's kinda hard to get a dress like this over wings," she teased. Then she looked at Logan, arched an eyebrow. "What were you, a vulture in a past life?"

"Who knows," Logan grinned ferally, "I don't have all my memories, so maybe I was."

Brenna gave Warren a mock fearful look, "you think there's truth to what he says? Vultures eat carrion, y'know."

"So do wolverines," Logan smirked.

"Then we should probably flee," Warren grinned and winked.

Brenna giggled a bit as Warren led her out of the solarium. She looked back and gave Logan a wink before they turned the corner.

"So where are we off to tonight, my dear Warren?" Brenna asked. "It's not normal that I wear a dress, but you did say formal dress."

"Indeed I did," Warren smiled. "We are going to a friend of mine's. He owns a mutant friendly restaurant."

"Oooh, wining and dining me are you?" she said coyly. "And what were your plans after that?" Warren led her to a car, and opened the door for her.

"There's a nice high lookout point where we can have our romantic dancing under the moonlight… completely uninterrupted."

"Mmm, dinner and dancing. You really know how to treat a lady don't you?" Brenna smiled as the car began to move away from the mansion.

Much later, Brenna and Warren were well fed and watching the moonrise. They stood at the top of Worthington industries, a fairly tall monolith in its own right. Warren was holding Brenna close in his arms and they danced very nearly on air. Their wings were spread and they presented a startling contrast of light and dark, like the black Queen facing the white King on the chessboard.

"Oh, Warren, I've never had such a great night as this one has been. I don't want it to end." Brenna said, breathlessly as she cuddled close to Warren, swaying to the jazzy blues from the portably stereo.

"There's been this feeling of... recognition," Warren admitted, "I feel like you're the other half of my soul, the one I've been searching for all my life, even though I didn't know it."

"Thank you Warren, for a wonderful evening." Brenna whispered breathlessly as she clung to Warren, feeling security in his arms.

They danced a few more steps before Warren dipped her and leaned in for a kiss.

"Sorry to break up the party, kids--"

Brenna and Warren jerked around, their moment lost. Damnit, they hadn't even shared a real kiss yet!

"Logan!" Brenna restrained herself from screaming in frustration.

"There's trouble," Logan said flatly.

Warren was instantly ready, but Brenna was reluctant to let go of her romantic night.

"What kind of trouble?" Brenna asked dully, wrapping both arms around Warren's.

"Storm's missing."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks for your reviews as always! This one's for Kitty2228 and of course, the usual suspects.

(I'm really proud of the first part. I adore Remy! –Meg)

Chapter Eight:

Las Vegas was the city that never sleeps, but that was true of Chicago and New York as well, and Gambit was of the mind that Las Vegas was the best of the three outside of his native "N'awlings." As it was, it was a chilly night in New York, and Gambit was glad for his weathered trench coat. Gambit was a man of many sins, of the flesh and of conscience. He was a man who loved women, and he loved hard. He was also a man with a past. It seemed that it had finally caught up to him.

They say the murderer always returns to the scene of the crime, and though Gambit was no murderer, he had been made accomplice to a horrific act against his will.

The Morlock Tunnels were empty now, but they would never be truly free of the ghosts of memory that had been violently marked into the walls. It was cold and wet in the Tunnels. Remy had never really liked the cold, but he ignored the cold to pay his respects. Remy feared that he would never be able to repay his debts against humanity, against the innocent few Underworlders who could not pass as human who had done nothing against him and had died violently, not avenged and alone. All because of a madman who decided who lived and died according to his genetic blue print for a better mutant kind; in the name of evolution.

The only saving grace that prevented Gambit from ending his life that hellish night was a little girl with bone growths protruding from her body. When the killing started, Gambit had been shocked, horrified and tried to stop it. For his troubles, the savage Sabretooth had mortally wounded Remy.

Sabretooth was a killer for hire working for Sinister at the time. Barely conscious, bleeding from gushing claw marks in his flank; Gambit had seized the young girl and fled. Hiding the girl away, Gambit was left to lick his wounds in one of his boltholes and he vowed that night he would never be used as he had by Mr. Sinister. There was nothing worth the cost of all those innocent deaths; there was nothing worth that price.

Gambit had taken it upon himself to carry the burden of justice for those people, and he promised that one day, he would avenge their senseless deaths.

Charging a card, he threw it to the ground. It exploded in a small puff, leaving the card singed but still presentable. Gambit had laid down the first hand in this gambit of cards, and it was up to Mr. Sinister to decide the next move.

Gambit turned and left, leaving behind the Ace of Spades.

Meanwhile, in a top-secret evil mad geneticist's laboratory…

Magneto walked down the hallway, almost gagging on the stench of human fear. He didn't want to be here, but he needed to make sure Mr. Sinister was still on track with their plans.

Magneto was in full dress, helmet included. He suspected Sinister had some minor telepathy. It wouldn't do to make oneself vulnerable in the lair of a powerful mutant. Even if the mutant in question was an ally.

"Have you prepared the "anti-cure?" Magneto asked.

"Of course, my fellow," Dr. Nathaniel Essex spoke before shifting to his more frightening form and baring his shark-like teeth, "some of the subjects in my private stock have responded well to the application of the cure and the anti-cure. The latest Western Blots have revealed the readiness of the virus. That was what the so-called cure was, Mr. Lehnsherr, a mere virus."

What Sinister didn't add, was that he had taken the "cure" and engineered a lentivirus to further his own plans. Essentially, what Mr. Sinister had created was a keyhole virus, a virus that would only attack a specific strain of DNA common to weaker generations of mutants. The effects of his virus would not appear for quite some time, lulling Magneto into a false sense of security.

Erik eyed him suspiciously, before he looked around the room. Corpses in various states of decay, not to mention frightened eyes looking at him, surrounded him.

"And of the serum to turn humans into mutants?" Magneto inquired.

"It is currently in the process of being created," Sinister lied. "It will take me some time to synthesize it."

"Very well. Delivery is expected as soon as possible."

"Expect a shipment Monday night," Mr. Sinister replied, "my associates will contact you with the necessary details."

"May I have the name of your associate doing the contact?" Erik inquired.

"Of course," Mr. Sinister grinned, "you are quite familiar with her, I believe. Arclight," he called out, and the woman appeared from another room. "Since you were so careless with the one I loaned to you, I had her cloned. Or rather, I did the clone job," he sighed, "so tedious."

Magneto nodded, feeling totally and completely unnerved, and turned to leave. Such awesome power and a cavalier attitude with it! As he left the laboratory, he felt the uneasiness fade, and a general feeling that he had merely been allowed to leave the lair of the Devil.

Sinister turned back to his work. Grinning maliciously, he prepared a syringe with the newest batch of his prepared virus. Looking over the candidates, his eyes stopped on a young woman huddled in the corner of her cage.

"Come here, my sweet thing. This will only hurt for a moment." He soothed, approaching her cage.

The frightened woman bared her teeth, "forget it, upworlder!" she snarled, "let me go, and I promise you, as leader of the Gene Nation, your death will be swift!"

"But I will let you go, my dear," Mr. Sinister smirked, "just as soon as I give you this shot. Come here. I promise, it won't hurt. Much."

The woman approached the gate to her cage, standing just out of arms reach. Mr. Sinister opened the cage and suddenly she exploded into action. Snapping off one of the sharp bone protrusions, she rushed him and stabbed him. Her flurry of movement overwhelmed the emotionally spare scientist and their struggle was violently fleeting. The syringe snapped and shattered, spilling onto Marrow and the mad scientist himself.

Essex let out a startled shout as Marrow fled, and a few of the listless prisoners shouted and hollered at the activity and begged to be freed.

Mr. Sinister smirked as he fancied he actually felt his created virus begin to attack his cells, but what mad scientist would create a virus without a vaccine? He strode over to his lab desk and pulled open the drawer. Carefully, he took out a syringe, took off its cap and jabbed the serum into his arm.

"And so it begins," he muttered, "the Legacy. My Legacy!"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N:

Chapter Nine:

Ororo Munroe hummed as she tended to her plants. She tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear as she worked, repotting her azaleas. For as long as she could remember, plants had always comforted her.

Her childhood had been turbulent. With the death of her parents when their home had been bombed, to the wall that trapped the young girl with her deceased mother, the source of her claustrophobia, to growing up in the streets of Cairo as a pickpocket. Her mentor, Master Thief Achmed el-Gibar had trained her well.

Ororo had picked Charles Francis Xavier, before he had been a Professor to a school of mutants, before he had lost the use of his legs, to steal from. Xavier had stopped her with his voice in her mind, making her freeze in fright. Then a mental battle between Farouk, and Xavier distracted both men sufficiently enough for her to flee unseen.

When she had next seen Xavier, it was years later, and she was revered as a Goddess, able to command the skies and the weather. However, she still felt the wanderlust, still felt a desire to seek out her true destiny. It was fortuitous then, that Xavier located the young woman he had seen several years previous. She accepted his invitation to travel to a new land, a new life in America, and a new adventure as advocate for mutant rights.

Here, she had met Scott Summers, Jean Grey, and Henry Hank McCoy, the students of Xavier's school. Few years had passed in relative happiness. Ororo became known as Storm, because of her ability to control the weather. During those years, the newly christened X-Men team calmed quite a few mutant-related domestic disturbances, and the school became a real school with the arrival of Jubilation Lee, Bobby Drake, and St. John Allerdyce. Students began trickling in after that, some rescued by Cyclops and Storm, others brought in by Jean Grey and the Professor advertising their school for 'gifted' children to those children's parents.

During all those years, whenever she had opportunity, Ororo tended to her Bright Lady's garden. Ororo had found serenity in her plants, a sense of calm that kept her from using her powers disproportionately in times of turmoil.

It was a calm night. The moon was at its zenith, ample and full, a pale silvery gem in the clear starry sky. Ororo worked, content.

The moment was shattered when Storm sensed a whispering on the wind, a shadow that cast a pall over her mind. Rising, swallowing the sudden tremulous emotions that welled up within her, Storm looked out her windows, searching for the cause of the sinister atmosphere.

Suddenly, she knew the flavour of the touch on her mind.

"Shadow King!"

Immediately, Storm fortified her mind, seeking to protect herself from the powerful telepath. She had sensed him only once, many years before, but once she had learned what that touch on her mind was, she recognized it once again.

"Ororo," the deep voice of Farouk resonated in her mind, "Beauty. I have come for you."

Storm attempted to fulgurate the Shadow King, but the mental light show washed over him like water over oil. Shrugging off the arc of blue light that coruscated over him, he exerted more pressure on her mind and her shields cracked under the strain. Suddenly, Ororo was overwhelmed with the feeling of her crippling claustrophobia. The last conscious thought of which she was aware, was the keening wail of the dying winds whistling through the shattered glass of her bedroom-cum-atrium.

Later…

Warren and Brenna sat in the front seat quietly, Warren driving, as Logan followed behind on the motorcycle. Gazing out the window, Brenna reflected on another failed attempt to become intimately acquainted with Warren. She then looked at Warren and knew by the expression on his face that he was thinking the same thing.

"I had a wonderful time tonight Warren, even if Logan did interrupt us." Brenna said, trying to ease the tension. "At least he had a valid reason for interrupting."

"Yes," Warren agreed, turning on his signal and slowing to make the turn, "tonight was great. I hope to have an even better night soon. I'll fly us to Bora Bora to ensure us a complete night of privacy if I have to."

"Think you can keep up with me flying?" Brenna smirked as they pulled into the driveway of the mansion.

"To Bora Bora?" Warren grinned, "I was thinking more along the lines of my private jet, but if you're game..."

"Any time, any place, Warren," she chuckled, as she got out of the car.

"Brenna, this is no time to talk about certain recreational activities." Logan said, coming up behind the couple.

"Who said we were talking about that?" Warren smiled, placing his arm around Brenna's waist.

"If you must know, we were talking about flying." Brenna added, tartly. Logan snorted.

"So, any leads on Storm's disappearance?" Warren asked, as the winged duo followed Logan into the mansion.

"Just that the atrium was broken into and there's a mess of dirt and broken glass all over the place and--" Logan broke off when he saw the look on Warren's face. "What?" he barked.

"Nothing, just surprised you know the word: atrium."

"Warren," Brenna spoke, the voice of reason, "focus."

"All I could smell was 'Ro's fear and ozone. She's gone." Logan finished. "I've alerted Marie and the other kids, and they're sniffin' around, but Storm's gone without a trace."

"What? No plan for finding her?" Brenna asked, looking Logan up and down.

Logan growled, "don't sass me, Feathers. The trail's cold. Maybe if we had a spook we'd find her, but she's gone as gone does."

"So, we just wait here and hope she returns?" Brenna sputtered. "She our friend, ally, we have to find her." Brenna added, turning away from the two and spreading her wings.

"Feathers!" Logan growled, "as much as I hate to say it, goin' out half cocked ain't goin' to find Storm. Now, we will go out an' find her. We're just goin' to do it-" Logan choked out, "as a team." Logan's hackles raised at that; he was Wolverine, and wolverines were loners. He was of the same mind as Brenna, but he was the only responsible adult left at Xavier's mansion with Storm missing and McCoy in D.C.

Brenna looked at Logan, her eyes dark and unreadable in the night air. She fluttered her wings again, "I have sources. Let me see if any of them had an ear to the ground when this happened."

Logan smelled no lie from her, though her pulse rate had jumped slightly. However suspicious he was of her, as was his nature, he nodded. "Can't stop you, Feathers. Wings, War Room in ten."

Brenna paused.

War Room? She wondered. If this War Room was in the sublevels, then this would be ample opportunity for her to infiltrate.

Damn.

She had already devoted herself to this course of action, and could not alter it now. To do so would arouse the already suspicious Logan to her agenda, or at least the existence of one.

Cursing silently, she nodded to the two, and took to the air.

She quickly got to her destination, and landed. Pushing the door aside with all her might, she stormed into Erik's office.

"Where is she?" she demanded, startling both Erik and Mystique.

"Where is who?" Erik inquired, looking her up and down.

"You know very well who."

Erik exchanged glances with Raven, before looking at Brenna full on, "I'm afraid, my dear, I quite very well do not."

"It doesn't look good for your infiltrator," Brenna began, "if one of the good guys gets kidnapped the day after she shows up."

Lehnsherr's eyebrows arched up, "so who is missing?"

"You really don't know?" Brenna asked, the hot wind in her sails blown out.

Both Erik and Raven shook their heads. "Ororo, Storm, is missing. She was kidnapped from the mansion earlier this evening when Warren and I..." she stopped herself from saying anything else.

Mystique smirked knowingly, while Magneto bent his head, brows furrowing. "It seems this may fit into our plans far more smoothly. With the X-Men's numbers so few and lacking in experienced leadership, perhaps we should see this as a tactical advantage."

"Tactical advantage?!" Brenna nearly shouted, "Erik--"

"Brenna," he smoothly interrupted, "with the X-Men out of the picture, we can restore our brothers and sisters back to what they once were."

Brenna resigned herself, knowing that it really did help their plans. Then why did she feel so torn? Shaking it off, she turned to leave.

"Don't forget, Brenna, of our current needs. Get into the sublevels and retrieve the blood samples. Our benefactor requires his payment."

"Since when did this become your show, Erik?" Brenna said darkly before she left the room.

Magneto and Mystique exchanged their ever-speaking glances and Erik broke the silence, "it seems that Brenna is an unwilling puppet, Mystique. Unwilling puppets tend to make or break the 'show' don't you think, Raven?"

"Yes, they do, but maybe that Warren character might be the right tool for the job. He can create enough of a distraction for us, and our little plan will carry out as designed."

"Excellent, my dear Mystique. Soon, homo sapiens superior shall have no causation for fear from their inferiors. We shall live in the true land of milk and honey."

And now for something completely different…

Remy LeBeau's long time friend, and constant tease 'Jacqueline' Gavin grinned vivaciously, and fluffed her long black hair back. "Aw, Remy, does this mean you need my help? Little old moi?"

"Jake," Gambit drawled out, pinching the bridge of his nose. Truly, only Jake Gavin Jr. could give Mr. Mellow hisself a headache of massive proportions. Gambit ignored Courier's current incarnation as a woman hitting on him, and smiled charmingly at the waitress. It wasn't that Jacqueline wasn't damn hot, it was just the fact that he'd known Jake Gavin for years, and to have a relationship, or even a one night stand would be just plain... weird. He had been there when Jake got permanently stuck in his female form, had to shoulder the ex-man's crying jag when she realized that she would never have a penis ever again.

"Jacqueline," she corrected, "I'm so over that now."

"I'm not," Gambit mumbled.

"Aww, mon pauvre Remy," she chuckled in a bad New Orlean's accent.

"Jackie," Remy compromised, "I 'ave a favour t' ask, mon ami."

"Ask away, and I'll see if you can afford it," Gavin smirked.

"Dat defeats de purpose of a favour!" Gambit protested.

"Remy, Remy, Remy," Jacqueline tsked, "I've done lots of favours for you, what have I got in return, you silver tongued diablo blanc?"

"Held you while you cried on my shoulder some, me. Still think me shirt is wet."

"You said you needed my help." she replied coolly, not wanting to remember that night.

"Several nights ago," Remy began, "I got a visitor that lead me to believe I have a certain...old enemy on my trail."

"Which one?" Gavin arched a fine black eyebrow, "as I recall, you've made your fair share of the wounded belles from New Orleans to California and back. Not to mention Prague."

Gambit winced, not wanting to remember Prague.

"Non, this m'sieu, he be one dat scares me. Dr. Essex."

At that, it was as though the loose feminine Jacqueline became the old Jake Gavin Remy remembered well, "shit, Remy, what did you do to get on his radar?"

"Nothin'!"

"A whole lotta nothing for something!" Jacqueline retorted, "you got the scary sick bastard on your back again. What the hell do you think I can do?"

"I need information. Anything on Raven Darkholme. Who's working for her, who she be working with, where she's been, who she's been. Don't care what rocks you gotta turn over, jus' do it."

"And the scary man himself?"

"Ain't never gon' find anythin' on him, and if y' try, you might get some unwanted attention. Stay away from him, Jake."

"You got it, Remy," Jacqueline nodded. "Last I heard, Raven was hooked with a character named Magneto. He was incarcerated for a while, supposed to serve the rest of his life in stir. Had him in a plastic prison and everything, on account of his mutant power to control metal. I have her pegged as being the one to bust him out."

"What are you doin' Raven?" Gambit murmured. "Thanks, Jake. Y'can contact me here," he said, passing her a small business-type card, "this ole son has places t'be."

"Remy, won't you stay, have a couple drinks?" Jacqueline pouted.

"As much as I would love to have a few drinks with you, ma belle, I must be places." Remy smirked. "Thank you again, Jake."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Hotaru: cheerleader getup C-H-A-P-T-E-R 1-0! GO US!

Chapter Ten

Storm woke up with one hell of a headache. She groaned, one hand going straight to her forehead and she pushed herself up from the floor with the other. The memory of her abduction suddenly struck her and she snapped to, paying more attention to her surroundings.

"Amahl Farouk!" she called, her eyes going misty white, "you will release me right this moment!"

She looked around, noting her surroundings.

The walls were of cracked glass, green and fogged. She was in an abandoned greenhouse. She briefly spared a moment for grief; there are few that she abhors more than the loss of life, plant life included. Tables are sparsely littered with dead potted plants, the ground strewn with dead leaves, and patches of darkened spots of water stains and mould. Fulvia fulva—Deuteromycotina, Storm knows the science behind her art, her religion.

She finally moved toward the door, and unlatching it, moves out into the hot, humid air.

The humidity in the air told her that she was no longer in Westchester New York. The electro-magnetic pulse tasted different, the distance from the North further away, and in turn the distance to the South Pole much closer. Given the humidity, heat and the magnetic atmosphere, Storm concluded she was somewhere in Louisiana, or Florida, even.

Ororo noted that the abandoned greenhouse was on a private property if the large mansion was any indication. There was little sign that Hurricane Katrina struck here. She realized that the thick brick walls surrounding the complex had probably sheltered this place from the water damage when the levy collapsed.

Amahl Farouk would most likely be in the Mansion. Ororo knew the Shadow King's arrogance assured him that she would come to him. Ororo would go to him, but she would not approach out of fear or obeisance of fear. She would approach him because she was a warrior, she was a strong woman, and she was powerful. She also knew that the Shadow King was an adversary not best left alone. He had to be brought to justice.

Ororo slowly picked herself up and began her journey to find him. The back stairs creaked as she climbed up them towards the mansion. She pressed against the door but it wouldn't budge. Putting all her strength into it, she kicked the door open and cautiously entered. Ororo knew she would be as the lamb to the slaughter, but she also knew there was no escape from the Shadow King. The foyer was dark, but not considerably so. Ororo squared her shoulders and moved in.

As she cautiously stepped through the hallway and reached the stairs, Ororo reached to the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out her cell phone. Flipping the top, she scrolled through to Xavier's school and pressed the dial button.

Meanwhile in New York…

Brenna sat on the edge of the rocks, looking over the waterfall. Why was she so torn over this? Erik was supposed to be helping her, not running the show. Then there were the X-Men. She felt so strange about Warren; she had never felt an emotion like this before for anyone. It was times like this that she wished her emotions were stone.

Hearing a branch crack behind her, Brenna stood up quickly, turned around with a boot knife in hand.

"Hello?" Brenna called. It was terribly late, Brenna was not expecting anyone to be around. She was mostly hidden in the secluded place, but she saw a dark shadow move among the trees.

She realized that she had given her location away, but knife in hand and thousands of years experience had her confident in her ability to defend herself. She spread her feet shoulder width apart and was prepared to fight.

"Need help with that weight on your shoulders, Feathers?" a familiar voice sallied, followed by the smell of acrid tobacco.

Brenna squared her shoulders and put the knife back in her boot. "What weight?" she retorted.

"Way you walk, seems the whole world's on your shoulders, darlin'." Logan replied.

"Don't darlin' me." Brenna snarled. "And it's none of your concern."

"Ain't one to put my nose in business that don't concern me," Logan agreed. He eyed her for a short moment, seeming to come his own personal conclusion. He shook the moment off and nodded, "have your sources heard anything 'bout 'Ro?"

Brenna sighed. "No, and I'm really worried."

"Darlin', you and me both," Logan smirked ferally. "You sure that you don't want to talk about your heavy burden? 'Cause, I've strong shoulders."

"My emotions are out of whack," Brenna sighed, sitting down on a log.

Manfully suppressing the urge to make a crack about that time of the month; Logan had been living in a Mansion full of girls for the better part of a year, "times are rough, be enough to make anyone confused about their emotions," he said, sitting down beside her.

"I ain't referring to that time of month." Brenna said in her best impression of Logan. "I like someone, Logan. I think he likes me too, but I'm not sure."

"Tall, bright and Wings?" Logan said, though it wasn't much of a stretch. "Yeah, I can see how you would be confused about your feelings for him. But, darlin' I know that boy has his eyes on ya. Anyone could see that he pines for ya."

"That obvious huh?" Brenna chuckled. "I just don't know what to do about it. Well, I do, but every time we go try to do anything about it, we kinda get interrupted."

Logan chuckled, "I guess I owe you an apology for interruptin' earlier this evenin'. Though, I reckon that you can have a couple minutes alone with Wings later. Lets head back to the Mansion, and figure out where Stormy is."

"Apology accepted. By the way, did you want to share some of the weight on your shoulders?" Brenna grinned, bumping shoulders with him.

"Oh, darlin' you'll never be able to carry the adamantium," Logan joked, just as Logan's cell phone rang. He eyed it with his usual distaste before answering, "Logan."

"Logan, it's Warren. Ororo just called. She's in New Orleans."

"Gotcha. Brenna and I are headed back now."

"News on Storm?" Brenna perked up.

Logan answered in the affirmative, "We're gonna take the X-jet down there."

Logan and Brenna emerged from the forest to see the X-Jet ready to fly. They climbed aboard and Brenna slipped into the seat beside Warren who was piloting.

"I've tagged Iceman, Shadowcat, and Colossus for this mission," Logan reported as he came up the ramp, the three aforementioned behind him, "I'm going to brief them in the back. Don't fly too crazy, Wings."

Warren nodded as Brenna suppressed a laugh. Logan and the others moved to the back and began briefing them. "Look, I know we haven't really had much time together, without interruptions..." Brenna began, worrying her lower lip.

"I'm listening," Warren said as he activated the VTOL.

"I don't feel so alone when I'm with you," Brenna said, then mentally kicked herself. "I know that sounded way too cheesy, huh?"

"Actually, I feel the same way," Warren looked up from the monitor, "I've always felt alone. Look. When I was eleven, my wings started to sprout. I knew what that meant, I knew that meant I was a mutant, that I was no longer normal. I knew that if my father found out, that I wouldn't ever be normal ever again. Not in his eyes. So I cut them, ripped them out. I pulled the feathers, I just--"

"Wanted to feel normal?" Brenna finished

"Wanted to be normal," Warren agreed. "But my father found out, and he spent the next ten years searching for a cure, trying to find a way for me to be normal. And I felt so alone then. I've realized now, that I wasn't ever looking to be normal. I was just hoping that my father would see me for what I really am. I suppose I had been looking for acceptance. His acceptance."

"One shouldn't have to look for acceptance. One should be happy and secure in who they are. We are gods among men." Brenna said.

Warren looked at Brenna again, "we should be happy and secure, yes. But I don't believe that we're gods. Sure, we have powers that separate us from humanity, but we're still human. We're still flawed and beautiful creatures just like everyone else. Mutants simply have a few extra genetic quirks than the rest of humanity."

Brenna silently looked out the window. She wished he had agreed with her.

"Wow, you two are such conversationalists." Logan groaned, sitting behind them.

"I'm concentrating on flying the faster-than-sound jet, Wolverine," Warren said dryly.

"Is there some instruction manual that says all leaders of the X-men and pilots of the X-jet have to be asses toward me?" Logan wondered.

"Oh, shut up, Logan." Brenna growled, getting up and moving to the back of the jet.

"Whoa, what bug crawled up her butt and died?" Bobby asked.

Brenna locked herself in the bathroom and tried to gain control of her emotions. Why was she letting this get to her?

Logan knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey Feathers, we're almost there." Brenna wiped her face over with a damp paper towel, shook herself off and exited the bathroom. She took up her seat at the front and buckled up.

Not once looking at Warren.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

Amahl Farouk also known as the Shadow King had Ororo in his grasp, but the years his young thief had spent with the telepath Xavier had made her mind strong against him.

"There's no point in resisting, my Beauty, my Ororo. I'll be in your mind soon enough, and I'll leave this pathetic body and rule in yours!"

"May my body be cold in the grave before I ever allow you to do that!"

Storm hoped the team would get there soon; she couldn't do this without her teammates.

Archangel nodded to Wolverine to take over the field tactics. Logan nodded and signaled to Iceman, and Colossus to spread out and approach from the rear. Shadowcat and Brenna would take the side entrance, Archangel would take the roof, and Logan. Well, Logan, thought with a 'snik' of his claws, he would take the front door.

"Move in," Logan whispered into the mic, "exercise extreme caution. Ain't nobody gettin' killed on my watch."

"X-Men, check in," Archangel whispered.

"Iceman and Colossus at the back door, ready to proceed."

"Shadowcat and Brenna at the side door. Looks like a kitchen." Kitty whispered, "Clear."

"I'm at the front door. Think I should knock?"

"You? Politely knock?" Archangel asked in a mock shocked voice.

Brenna rolled her eyes as she followed Shadowcat through the kitchen.

"Funny," she heard Logan mutter over the connection. Brenna watched Shadowcat stick her head through the wall, then still phased the other girl pulled back into the room, "hall's clear."

Brenna pulled the door open, and they darted through.

"Ow!" Brenna whispered. "Damned wings," she added pulling her wing from a chair.

Shadowcat glanced back, then smiled, reaching out a hand. Nonplussed, Brenna took it, and gasped as she felt herself become intangible. She could pass through solid objects!

Meanwhile, Iceman froze the doorknob to the back entrance and Colossus transformed himself to his metal form and smashed the frozen doorknob. The door swung open and they cautiously made their way in.

"Where's our meeting point, Archangel?" Shadowcat inquired as they made their way forward.

"Second floor, third door from the stairs," Warren whispered, "I found Storm, and she's not alone."

Logan raced through the house to reach the stairs. The Mansion was very large, and he had a lot of ground to cover. He met up with Iceman and Colossus at the foot of the stairs and they ran up, single file. Shadowcat and Brenna were combining their powers and flying up through the ceiling to the second floor. They all converged at Warren's location in less than twenty seconds.

"Great time, gang. "Warren whispered, then motioned to the room.

"Ever heard of this Shadow King?" Warren asked, his intel scrabbled together from listening to Storm's imprecations against her enemy.

Logan and the rest shook their heads.

Brenna on the other hand, raised her hand as though they were in class.

"He's a very powerful telepath," she stated matter of fact-like.

"Crap," Logan said, "We don't got no spooks."

"What? You a firm believer in fightin' fire with fire?" Archangel murmured.

"Oh, we're so gonna get our asses kicked," Shadowcat murmured to Iceman and Colossus.

"You're a fountain of optimism." Warren whispered, glancing back at Shadowcat.

"Optimism this," Logan snarled, popping his claws again.

They burst into the room and Warren suddenly had the urge to say to Ororo, "My name is Luke Skywalker and I'm here to rescue you."

Logan just wanted to say "Oh shit."

"Oh shit."

There was Ororo, being held up by the neck by a young woman.

"I thought you said the Shadow King was a...King" Logan stammered.

Brenna looked at them, "what?" she said, arching her shoulders, and by adjunction, her wings, and flopping her hands expressively.

"Well, technically, the King is a Queen," Iceman interjected, "and she's kinda... really fat. No offence."

"Do not be misled," Ororo said, "the Shadow King is a dangerous opponent. Take him seriously."

"Yes, Ms. Munroe," Shadowcat, Iceman and Colossus chorused.

Brenna rolled her eyes and slowly began to inch towards Ororo and the Shadow King. She cried out when the Shadow King lashed out with his psionic power, and blacking out momentarily, Piotr, the closest, caught her before she went down.

Ororo raised a white brow apologetically, "utilize your mental shielding," she said, "like the professor taught you."

"Well, I'm screwed, 'Ro, baby," Logan rumbled, "'cause you know me, I'm not right in the noggin'. An' I'm not standin' around with my dick in hand, ya hear me--" Logan leapt into action even before he finished talking, and he was faster than anyone would think possible with all that adamantium weight he lugged around. Warren was in motion just as soon as Logan moved, and the Shadow King lashed out at Logan while Warren wrenched Ororo away from the Shadow King, beating at the overweight woman with his wings. Iceman sent out a stream of ice once Storm was clear.

"Damn, that woman packs a punch" Logan said, shaking his head.

With a howl of outrage, Shadow King accessed his host's powers and launched himself to the nearest accessible X-man. Logan.

Logan roared and launched himself, adamantium claws and all toward Colossus and the stunned Brenna. Colossus metaled up and spun on his heels, hunched protectively over the vulnerable Brenna. Logan's claws made a terrible screech as metal met metal. Three matching furrows appeared in Colossus' back.

Brenna cringed at the sound, but was thankful for the protection. Shadowcat raced toward Logan and grabbed a hold of him. Phasing him out made him effectively harmless.

"Then what?!" Warren shouted, "play cat and mouse forever? This isn't gonna put the Shadow King out for good."

"I told you we were gonna get our asses kicked!" Kitty shouted around a struggling Logan, just as the woman burst out of the ice block that Iceman had constructed around her.

"Holy crap!" Iceman dodged out of the way of a flying ice shard.

Brenna pushed Colossus off her and stretched her wings.

Warren cried out as several of the deadly ice shards slashed through his pure white wings. Reacting to Warren's cry, Brenna instinctively shrugged off her anger at Warren. It didn't matter that he wasn't on her side, it didn't matter that Warren didn't believe in the same things she did. What mattered was the man she was in love with was getting hurt and she wasn't going to stand for it.

Brenna pushed Colossus off her and stretched her wings. With an ancient Celtic battle cry, Brenna charged toward the Shadow King inhabiting the woman.

"Feathers! Don't!" Logan shouted, reaching out but only grabbing a couple of feathers.

With a wave of her arm, the woman possessed by the Shadow King created a psionic wall into which Brenna crashed. Brenna cried out as she landed hard on her wrist, feeling the honeycombed bone shatter with a loud snap.

Logan evaluated the fight in a split second, Archangel, Brenna and Colossus were down. What he had was himself, Storm and two green kids. This was going to be fun.

"This would be a wonderful time for a plan, 'Ro." Logan whispered, moving next to her.

"Yes. It would," Storm murmured back, "do you have one?"

"I thought you had one..."Logan replied. "This is going to take a miracle to get through this."

Suddenly Shadowcat cried out as Shadow King batted her down. Iceman shot a flow of ice toward the possessed woman that never reached its target. Iceman collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, lying where he had stood.

"He is toying with us," Storm said, "telling us that he can stop us at any time. Going after the children, taking down the inexperienced--"

"Damn it, 'Ro, why aren't you fighting him?"

"I am," this was the first time all night that Ororo sounded testy, "I've been fighting him all night, keeping him out of my mind. It is taxing."

"Sorry 'Ro." Logan said, then looked back to assess the situation. It seriously would take a miracle to win this fight.

"Shadow King!" a voice boomed in their minds, "we meet again!"

Ororo gasped, shock flooding her brown eyes.

"Xavier!" the woman shouted, "show yourself!"

"Come to the astral plane and see for yourself."

"Trickery!" the woman howled, "I'll not lose this time!"

"This isn't possible." Logan said, looking at Ororo.

Ororo had tears in her eyes, looking to Logan, "Jean coming back from the dead was impossible. Yet she did. I've seen stranger things in my life. Simply thank the Goddess and be glad!"

"There are more things in heaven and earth than dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio," Archangel quoted from where he lay, "and beyond so, as well."

Ororo knelt next to the fallen angel and began tending to him.

Suddenly, the woman howled and collapsed, falling silent herself, but the howling continued. The awful noise was in their minds. Ororo slammed her shields down hard, riding the trapping of the Shadow King out. Xavier was battling the Shadow King on the astral plane, and the Shadow King was not going lightly.

Brenna held her head against her knees, ignoring the pain in her wrist. She hoped it would end soon.

Suddenly there was a terrible psychic backlash and all the non-psions in the room suddenly got nosebleeds, while the once possessed woman clutched her head and groaned with a backlash induced headache.

"My X-Men," Xavier's voice sounded in their heads, "the Shadow King has been neutralized on the astral plane."

"Chuck, I got ta say, I was not expecting this miracle," Logan said, ruefully shaking his head.

"I'm fine, Ororo," Warren shrugged the woman's fussing off. She merely raised a brow, before rising and making her way to the ex-possessed woman.

"I am Ororo Munroe."

The distraught woman sobbed, "Xi'an Coy Mahn. People call me Karma. God, look at me. I used to be a size four."

Ororo nodded comfortingly, "the Shadow King enjoys eating excessively, he has an addictive personality. Food was one of them. Possessing people was another. He had no moral compass, no qualms or respect for human life."

"How did you survive, Professor?" Bobby inquired, slowly gathering his senses.

They were startled, when shouts erupted from the other end of the room. Logan was confronting Brenna.

"You could have gotten yourself killed!" Logan shouted at Brenna. "Rushing in there without a plan."

"Well, excuse me! At least I was trying to do something!" Brenna shouted back equally as loud.

"Look where it got you! Your wrist is broken!"

"I'm ten thousand years older than you! Stop treating me like a child!" She screamed, storming out of the mansion. Spreading her wings, she took flight.

In the silence that remained, Bobby broke it with a nervous chuckle, "she was joking, right? Like how teenagers are... "I'm ten thousand years older than you, you're not the boss of me now," right? Right?"

Logan stalked off for a cigar, leaving a perplexed team looking on.

"Um... right?" Bobby asked again.

Kitty looked at Bobby with wide eyes, "I really don't know, Bobby."

"This was so much fun," Bobby grumped, "lets do this again, really. Super fun."

"I think I should be saying that," Piotr said, "since I'm the one with a slashed metal skin."

"Definitely a good idea to stay shifted 'til we get back to the Mansion and fix you up, in case the injury translates," Kitty fretted.

"I think that's a wise idea, Kitty." Ororo soothed, then started to herd everyone to the Jet.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: We wrote this scene after we got the reviews for chapter three. This one's for you, TheHollister and Shadowcat47!

(Random quote of the day: "Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go everywhere!" –Meg who has no idea who actually said this first.) Enjoy!

Hotaru (shakes head) Anyways, we might be off schedule after this chapter… our muses(glares at Warren and Remy who are tied up) walked away from us and therefore we still have the rest to write. Also, I would like to clarify Brenna's not a slut….That is all. Please take a look at my profile, as there is something important about the fic posted on there.

Chapter Twelve

Brenna sat quietly in front of Erik's desk as Mystique skillfully wrapped Brenna's wrist. Erik walked into the room and settled himself behind his desk.

"Our partner is growing impatient." Erik said calmly. "I'm gathering you have the samples?"

"You can tell your esteemed partner," Brenna began coolly, "that what I originally provided should be more than sufficient."

"He will not be pleased."

"He can go to hell," Brenna replied. "I'm pushing the plan ahead. I want everything ready by Monday," she added, getting up from her seat. "Remember Erik. I cured you twice, I can kill you ten times before you hit the ground." With that, she walked out of the office.

Having changed into track pants and a halter-top, Brenna stood outside of Magneto's lair and took a deep breath. She looked down at her wrapped wrist. Before Mystique had wrapped it, Brenna had soaked it in some diluted tears. It would heal faster, but not immediately.

Stretching her arms, she concentrated on the makeshift duffle punching bag. Letting the anger flow through her, she began to pummel the bag. Slowly at first, then she sped up, the turbulent emotions of recent events finally taking its toll. She ignored the growing pain in her damaged wrist, snarling as she felt tears sting her eyes. Tears that were the product of an overwhelmed body, not of her conflicted feelings toward Warren.

Suddenly, in one smooth move, she reached into her boot, and pulled out her knife. She spun around and threw it, the knife lodging itself in a tree.

"Next time it'll be your forehead," she said dryly, watching the young man assess the close proximity of the knife to his head.

"What do you want?"

"I came to introduce myself. Considering we were never actually introduced," the young man said. "The name's Pyro."

"Gees, I wonder what your abilities are." Brenna rolled her eyes. "I'm Brenna."

"You're new," St. John said casually, "so, I think you deserve a fair warning. The life that Magneto's promised you? It's not all that its cracked up to be. He'll turn you out the minute you have no usefulness to him. He's a snake charmer."

"And I suppose you're telling me this to save an innocent girl from being hurt?" She said, taking her towel and wrapping it over her shoulders.

Pyro laughed harshly, "we're none of us innocent, or else Magneto would have no interest in you. It's Magneto's idea of his mensch, to believe in the dream that Magneto holds, you gotta be the type that will fight for it, by any means necessary."

"Wanna know something, hun?" Brenna said, coming up behind beside him and whispering, "I taught him that."

Wary, Pyro looked over the woman again. Then he laughed bitterly and turned to go. "You both can go to hell together."

Brenna grabbed him and pulled him toward her.

"You wanna come with? I hear it can be a blast." Brenna pulled him closer and kissed him.

Pyro threaded a hand in her hand and pulled her back, the smirk on his face dark and angry, "it's too late, I've already been. Haven't you heard?" Then he pulled Brenna back to him for another savage kiss, until gasping for breath they parted.

"I love men who are young and dangerous." Brenna smirked, clawing lightly down Pyro's back.

"Aren't all men young and dangerous to you?" Pyro shot back, only wanting to hurt and destroy.

Brenna tilted her head back, laughing, enjoying his youthful anger, "young, yes, but dangerous... rarely."

"More kissing, less with the talking."

"Mmmm, forceful one aren't you?" Brenna said in between kisses.

"I can be a lot of things," Pyro growled into her mouth, slipping the towel off her shoulders harshly.

"I'm sure you can be." Brenna growled back, stripping off his shirt. Brenna ripped St. John's belt straight off his pants, giggling as she did it.

St. John looked at her for a moment in shock, then went after her halter top. He eased a bit of a flame and singed her halter just enough for him to rip it off.

Brenna pulled Pyro to the ground, then began slowly kissing down his neck.

He eagerly rose to meet her lips, their tongues dueling for supremacy. She moaned appreciatively into his mouth, then began to trail her kisses down his chest, marking a swath of a harsh encounter on his torso, when suddenly they felt the pain of high impact blows from sharp, boney feet. The woman who tripped over them groaned as she pulled her bone projections out of the ground, finally snapping a few of them in her frustration. Brenna and St. John sat up, seeing the girl covered in blood and ragged clothing.

Brenna huffed and sat up to see who the intruder was. "Who the hell are you?" She growled, wrapping the towel around her chest awkwardly. "Oh my God," Brenna invoked, "what happened to you?"

Marrow snarled and staggered to her feet, as the surprised duo grabbed clothing to hide the evidence of their tryst.

Marrow stumbled, and St. John, only dressed in pants leapt to catch her before she fell once again. He yelped as a bone protrusion gashed his arm. Marrow stumbled away, leaning against a tree.

"Upworlder," she rasped, "it's too late."

"What's too late?" Brenna demanded. This woman interrupted her angry sex, she better have a good reason for it! "Damnit woman," Brenna seethed "Don't wait for the second coming of Christ before speaking!"

A rough savage laugh spilled from Marrow's lips, "he said... he said that it was gonna kill me. Kill everyone who ain't pure."

Johnny looked to Brenna before asking Marrow to clarify what the hell she was talking about.

"Who said what about killing?" Brenna asked, confused. "And what kind of pure?"

"The man... he ain't upworlder, but he ain't Morlock either," Marrow said, feeling her limbs trembling and tried to still them, snarling at herself. "I don't know who he is. Except he calls himself doctor. It's his legacy, what he gave me. I can feel it, killing me. It's gonna be slow. The others died horribly."

Brenna looked at Marrow with an indescribable look on her face. Then she stood up. She grabbed her knife from the tree and looked at Marrow with an apologetic look on her face.

"Please forgive me for what I'm about to do." Brenna whispered to her. Marrow seemed to have understood and nodded, a smile slowly showing itself on her lips. Brenna raised her knife and plunged it into Marrow's heart.

"Thank you..." Marrow whispered, relief and peace settling on the young woman's countenance.

Brenna laid the mutant woman down to the ground, "I hope you find in death what you could not in life."

Pyro stood dumbfounded by what he had just seen. Brenna however, just cleaned her knife with her towel. She turned to him, looking him up and down, and snorted. She headed back inside the complex.

"Afraid of me yet?" Brenna shouted back towards him.

"No, I'm not afraid of you," Johnny said, reaching out to Brenna.

"You should be," was all Brenna would say.

Meanwhile, on the X-Jet…

Ororo and Logan had dropped the children and Warren off at the mansion, having determined en route that Hank McCoy returned from D.C. and was available to offer his services as a doctor, though he hadn't practiced emergency medicine in some years. Then Ororo had logged in a flight plan while Logan reluctantly strapped himself back in the co-pilots chair.

"Where are we goin' 'Ro?"

Storm smiled at him, "Scotland."

"Charles' in Scotland?"

"As is Moira, Rahne, and Excalibur."

"Excalibur?"

"A team, much like ours in New York."

"So, what's with the name? Someone pull a sword outta stone?"

"Actually, that's a misconception," Storm smiled, warming to her topic; she _was_ the school's history teacher, "Disney had it wrong. Excalibur was the sword given to Arthur by the Lady of the Lake after the sword he had pulled from the stone broke in battle."

Logan just nodded, like he had actually heard it before and only realized it now. He frequently experienced this feeling of déjà vu. It would be annoying if he weren't used to it.

"So, no," Ororo concluded, "no one pulled a sword out of a stone. At any rate, we probably won't be meeting anyone on Excalibur, except, perhaps Rahne. Rather, we are simply going to meet Charles and Moira at headquarters."

"Not a social call. Got it," Logan chuckled. He preferred 'Ro in the pilot's seat, rather than Scooter–his stomach took the ride better. They rode in silence for about ten minutes before Logan finally couldn't keep it in any more. "How in the seven hells did Chuck survive? We saw him, 'Ro. We saw him get..."

"It will be explained," Ororo said, "I don't know how he survived it, but," a tear slipped down Ororo's usually calm, serene face. Clouds gathered in the sky until she got a hold of herself and they dissipated. "I'm glad."

"Me too, Romy," Logan rumbled.


	13. Chapter 13

Requiem for an Angel

Written by: hotaruchan2002 and meg the fierce lady

A/N: OMG! We're soooooo sorry begs humbly for forgiveness We'll give you cookies! We are so ashamed of ourselves, and we really have no excuses. That said, enjoy!

Chapter Thirteen  
They landed on a private airstrip on Muir Island. VTOL disengaged, Ororo looked to Logan as she finished the post flight shutdown. "Ready?" 

"Like a man on prom night," Logan grinned.

Ororo made a face, "Logan!"

"What?" Logan asked, innocently. Ororo simply snorted elegantly and primly rose heading for the hatch. Logan followed, "what? Somethin' I said?"

They stepped out of the jet and surveyed their surroundings.

"Wow, they're right, it really is foggy in Scotland." Logan commented blandly.

"Here, let me do something about that." Ororo replied, eyes turning white. The fog parted to display a fairly large mansion.

Logan and Storm walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. 

"Ororo, Logan. Welcome," Moira smiled warmly at the two.

Ororo smiled in return, "Moira. It is good to see you." 

"Charles is in the med-lab," Moira said by way of summons, leaving for the elevator and trusting the two to follow.

"How is this possible?" Ororo inquired, pulling Logan along behind her.

"You must understand," Moira murmured respectfully, "Charles' body is no longer living. The extreme power Charles has through his telepathy has enabled him to jump bodies, if you will. This is only temporary. The man that Charles is currently... inhabiting... has been in a persistent vegetative state for three years. The mere fact that Charles was able to wake and stimulate a brain that is for all intents and purposes dead--" Moira stopped, "sorry, that's the research girl in me."

"It is okay," Ororo murmured kindly, "this is a subject you are passionate about, please do go on."

"Oh, perhaps another time," Moira smiled, as the elevator dinged and opened, "it's just this way."

The duo followed Moira a short way down the corridor and stepped into a large room that seemed much like a gym. It was there they saw an unfamiliar man exercising atrophied muscles.

Ororo was nearly overcome with emotion, but forced it down ruthlessly. "Charles!"

"Ororo, I knew you would come," the young man smiled, reaching out for a hug. Ororo smiled and embraced him gracefully. The body was an unfamiliar one, but for such a sensitive soul as Ororo, she felt that Charles' presence was very much with her. It was comforting. 

"Please, come," Charles in a stranger said, smiling with an unfamiliar face, "let us partake of tea and sit a while in the parlor, for I have much to tell you."

Moira, recognizing that Charles had exerted himself in his exercising, trying to heal a body that simply needed time to recover, immediately began scolding him like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

Ororo shared her amusement with Logan as she was familiar with the two's relationship. Logan was amused to see a tiny woman vociferously chastise a man who towered over her and meekly took her abuse. Logan tried to stifle a laugh, earning a sharp jab of Ororo's elbow in his stomach. He couldn't help the humour of the situation at all; no one he knew ever chastised Charles Xavier.

The two arguing looked at Logan and Ororo finally aware that there were others in the room. Watching them argue.

Sheepish, Moira quickly ushered them into the elevator and escorted them to the parlor in the public section of the mansion.

Once they were settled with a pot of tea, even Logan who usually eschewed high society type functions sat with a cup and saucer of tea. He even knew the correct way to hold the items.

Ororo looked over at him and tried not to double take, noting how sophisticated Logan was trying to look. Logan gave her a look that said "tell anyone and no one will ever find the body." Ororo stifled her amusement.

Ororo then turned to face Moira and the new Charles, so many questions arising in her mind, but uncertain as to where to start. 

Meanwhile, in New York City, New York:

It was nighttime in the large metropolitan city of New York, New York, but Remy LeBeau was not there to enjoy the sights. He was a man on a mission. He had checked the usual haunts that Raven Darkholme frequented, but he had no luck as yet.

He stalked down the sidewalk, on his way to one last place before he called it a night.

Remy's temporary cell phone rang and he answered it, "bon soir, Jackie, whatcha got for moi?"

"For the longest time, Raven was totally under the radar, then recently she was arrested by the police. She was human, then, with no mutant gene. You know, I could kick myself. What if I took the cure? Would I revert back to being my manly self?"

"Jackie…" 

"Anyway, Raven busted out… She's in New York right now. I found a plane ticket with one of her aliases. Right now, this alias is checked in at the Waldorf. So classy."

"Jackie…" 

"I can't help it, I have a female brain now. Stupid hormones."

But Remy wasn't listening. He thought he heard something in the distance. He heard a sound of something clattering maybe or a scuffle of a shoe on pavement. He couldn't immediately discern the source. 

"Jake—" was all Remy had time to say, because he was suddenly accosted by a large meaty hand on his shoulder. A hand with claws. He immediately recognized the sharp nails as something he had hoped to never see again. No sooner had he processed this, an absurdly long tongue shot out, knocking the phone from his hand. It clattered on the ground, a tinny concerned shout of "Remy!" emitting from it, before it was crushed beneath Sabretooth's boot.

"Hein, homme," Remy chuckled, trying to squirm out from under Sabretooth's claws, "long time no see, non?"

Victor Creed only snarled his mountain lion snarl, teeth bared and eyes glowing a near yellow.

"Good evening, Monsieur LeBeau." Toad smiled as he stepped out from behind Victor. Lesions permeated his face and hands.

"Ahh, Mortimer, and how are you?" Remy said, trying to hide his repulsion.

"Listen, LeBeau," Toad sneered looking him up and down "We've got orders to bring you in and bring you in we will. As you can tell, I seem to be degrading of sorts. I've been promised the cure so you're coming with us."

"Aww, who wants this ole boy so much?" Remy drawled, trying to act as nonchalant as he could with Sabretooth's hands gripping his shoulders. He just knew he would be bruised in the morning.

"Don't worry," Toad sneered, "no one wants you for you. I don't know why Mr. Sinister wants you, and I don't care. So long as I get the cure, and Creed here gets what he wants."

Remy paled at the mention of Mr. Sinister, but then so many pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

"Look, vous deux.. I'm sure we could come to an understanding no?" Remy tried to laugh things off, but knew deep down it was hopeless. 

"Yeah, I'm sure we could," Creed rumbled, spinning Remy around, "just ain't gonna be one you'll like."

The last thing Remy saw was Creed's fist swinging for his face, and then he knew pain, darkness and no more.


	14. Chapter 14

Requiem for an Angel

Written by: hotaruchan2002 and meg the fierce lady

A/N: Weeee! Chapter 14, we're in the home stretch!

Chapter Fourteen  
Pyro slumped into a sofa and clicked on the television. Frustrated at the interruption of a possible good lay, he flicked through the stations trying to find something to dull his mind for a little while.

He stopped when he saw the face of the reporter Trish Tilby. Man, she was hot.

"...reports are coming in now of a virus that is spreading widely and quickly. It is more deadly than the e-coli virus and SARS. Characterized by lesions spreading rapidly over the body, it seems the virus is at the present time approximately ninety percent fatal. Officials from FEMA are urging citizens to remain calm and immediately go to the following hospitals on the screen where they are equipped to handle this epidemic…"

The rest of the words were lost to Pyro as he held up his hand, finger on the mute button of the remote control. He didn't mute the television for the purpose of cutting the sound so he could fantasize about Trish, but because he had just noticed a minor lesion developing on the back of his hand.

Shoving his sleeves up he examined his hands and arms in growing fear. His breath came in spurts.

Brenna walked into the room and looked at a slightly panicked Pyro. "I hate the news, it's always been bad since they invented tv broadcasting." Brenna said blandly.

Pyro stared at Brenna numbly, panic and fear churning in his stomach, choking up his throat. Brenna didn't seem to notice, as she was staring at the television screen. She grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.

Brenna watched, suddenly absorbed into the story. Anger settled over her, as she turned to look at Pyro. The look on her face chilled him to the bone.

"Suddenly it all makes sense," she hissed, fury seeming to make her more alive, more godlike and frightening. "Erik Lensherr is a bastard as you have warned me. I shall show him that hell hath no fury than woman scorned!"

Brenna stormed off, leaving an even more scared and worried Pyro sitting on the couch.

She rushed down the hallways then kicked in the door to Eric's private office. "Erik Lensherr, you have messed with the wrong mutant!" she roared, unfurling her wings to as far as they could reach, looking even more intimidating.

Power rippled through the room, the very air shimmering with tension.

Lensherr turned in his seat and looked at Brenna, "I beg your pardon?"

Brenna marched up to the desk and slammed her hands against the desk hard enough to make it crack, "you heard me, pal!"

Mystique straightened up, getting ready to strike a blow, in defense of her leader.

"Indeed I did, but of what are you referring to?" Erik said, standing to meet Brenna's steely gaze, "I must admit to a certain amount of confusion regarding this outburst."

Brenna gave him a skeptical once over, not willing to be caught up in another one of his lies. "Do you not watch the news, or even your own people?" She seethed. "There's a virus out there, one that is killing a vast amount of people, specifically mutants," she hissed.

Erik looked up sharply at this, "that cannot be. The virus was supposed to target humans!"

Brenna gasped sharply at this confession.

"You knew about this?!" she roared again, having been left out of the loop yet again. "I told you I could kill you ten times before you hit the ground Erik. A claim I am fully willing to demonstrate. What else don't I know about this plan of yours?"

"Calm yourself, woman!" Erik was not a man given to shouting, but the news of Mr. Sinister's betrayal had driven the limits of his patience. "Allow me a modicum moment of silence so that I may think!"

"Think? THINK?! It is so very well past thinking time Erik! Action must be taken now or our plans will fail! I, for one, refuse to have this plan fail by having half our kind destroyed by a stupid allegiance with someone I've never even met!"

Brenna was livid now, an etheral green glow starting to form around her body. Erik swept around the desk and paced to the window, fuming. Mystique took a step back, face blank of any emotion whatsoever.

Staring out the window at the grounds beyond, Erik finally made himself calm down. Ignoring Brenna's shouts, he turned to Mystique. "Gather our forces," he ordered, "we are leaving."

Brenna steeled herself and blocked Erik's path. "I will not be left out any longer, Erik." She glared at him. "What is the plan?"

Erik paused in his path, "we will carry on as planned. I am going to have a word with our erstwhile partner. We still have time."

Brenna stiffly moved out of his way, and then moved out quietly to a hallway. Still furious and needing some release, she slammed her uninjured wrist into the wall, and then screamed as the pain hit her.

When Brenna left the room, the door slamming shut behind her, Erik turned to his trusted lieutenant, "Raven…"

"I know, Erik," Mystique murmured, bending over the laptop and keying in some commands. She stood and morphing in to Remy Lebeau, she stepped back from the camera's view.

"You called Lensherr?" Mr. Sinister's sinister visage appeared on the screen.

"How long did you expect to keep this from me, Dr. Essex?" Magneto sneered, "did you think me so witless that I would hold up my end of the bargain when you have so spectacularly failed in yours?"

"Failed? What makes you say I have failed?" Mr. Sinister crooned, smiling a toothy grin.

"You try my patience, you jackal," Erik replied, sharply, "you know very well the agreement we have regarding the virus. It was supposed to kill humans and only humans. Yet, I have to hear it from the news, (the news, Sinister!) that many of our brethren are dying from this virus! I was going to give you what you wanted, but I should think not now." Erik leaned back to gesture with his hand. Mystique as Gambit stumbled into view, metal shackles around her/his wrists manipulated by Magneto, dragging her/him into view of the camera.

Mr Sinister hissed at the sight of Gambit, leaning closer to the camera. Erik hid his triumphant smirk, and waved the Gambit doppelganger away.

"In the future, Mr. Sinister, you should think twice about reneging on a deal," Erik said silkily.

"Perhaps you misunderstand the method to my madness, Mr. Lensherr," Mr. Sinister smiled his shark grin, "I have long reaching plans for our mutant brethren, plans that started hundreds years ago, and plans that will continue for a hundred years more. I am thinning the herd, culling the weak, creating stronger mutants. Those that survive the virus will be considered the alpha class. They will be the future of our kind."

"You're mad!" Erik gasped out. "What about now? The humans outnumber us, we'll be extinct!"

Mr. Sinister smirked, "you forget, I have been studying the genetic code for a very long time. Mutation is an inevitable future for more than sixty percent of the current world population. That is a very large number."

The door flung open and a fuming Brenna stalked in, pulling a scared witless Pyro by the neck of his shirt. She whipped the computer around to face her. "And this is what we get for now? How does that aid us in the grander scheme of things? The human world will see this as the next plague, or SARS outbreak!"

Mystique was startled, "Pyro!" she stepped forward and grasped his arms.

Or tried to, anyway, as Pyro flinched away, "don't touch me! I don't want you to get sick too!"

Brenna growled "Enough!" The two stopped and stared at her because of the tone of her voice.

Erik hissed, "Quiet down, Brenna," attempting to turn the computer away from her.

"No, Erik, I will not be silenced. This man claims there was a plan started hundreds of years ago. I've lived much longer than that, and all I have seen is persecution! You will not stand in my way, you so-called, doctor!"

"The Angel of Death, you I have not seen in a very long time," Mr. Sinister bared his teeth, "I must admit, I had thought you dead and gone."

Brenna stood up proudly, masking her own mix of fear and curiosity. "I am the Angel of Death, I cannot die."

A curious Sinister is a dangerous thing, and Brenna had just gotten on his radar in a big way, "how long have you been this Angel of Death?"

"It's none of your concern, doctor." Brenna sneered.

"Oh, I have a vested interest in the future of our kind, as well as the past. You are Brenna of the Highlands, aren't you? Born quite a few thousand years ago, were you not?" Mr. Sinister leaned back in his seat, staring intently at the screen in front of him, "you are the same one. Tell me, have you heard of En Sabah Nur?" He chuckled, "of course you have, you have tangled with him in the past."

"Gods usually do," Brenna said stolidly.

"Ah, yes, I remember the clash of the titans, you facing the great Apocalypse."

Brenna's nerves were starting to feel raw, hoping beyond hope someone would end this so she could walk away not appearing weak. She needed a good belt of whiskey right about now.

Erik grabbed the computer and turned it around to face him again. "We'll discuss this later, Sinister," he said in a rather composed voice that he didn't feel, and turned the computer off. Brenna's legs buckled the instant she realized the computer was off.

Noticing the swaying, Mystique quickly grabbed Brenna before she could keel over, guiding her to a chair.

"Whiskey..." Brenna croaked, "I need whiskey, or tequila, or vodka... Something!"

"I think we all need to get blindingly drunk as soon as possible," St. John nodded in vociferous agreement.

"I agree with lesion face over there" Brenna attempted to laugh, moving away from Mystique.

"We have larger concerns, right now," Erik stated, "Brenna, is there anything you can do for Pyro?"

"Yeah, cry me a river, cure me, right?" Pyro said, feeling loads calmer as he realized what Brenna could do.

"Give me one good reason." Brenna growled, taking off the pendant from around her neck.

"We could've had great sex?" Pyro said, hopefully.

Brenna shot him a glare that could have singed the hair off his balls. "A valid reason."

Pyro paled, "hey, this is my life you're talking about here! I don't wanna die! I'm too young and pretty to die!"

"You heard Mr. Sinister, Pyro. Or do you think you're not an alpha mutant?" Brenna shot back.

Pyro paled at this comment, but the anger inside him was rising. He created a small ball of fire in his hand, getting ready to throw it at her. Brenna grinned wickedly. "You wouldn't do that. You know I have the cure. You hurt me, you die."

Erik could not stand to have his authority subjugated by the two behaving like children, "enough!" he roared, "Brenna, you will heal your brother mutant, or have you forgotten our goals?"

"Our goals? Our goals?" Brenna was frustrated beyond rash thought. She tossed the pendant to Pyro. "Heal yourself, see if I care!" She turned and stormed out, looking for the closest exit.

Pyro stood stock still, clutching the pendant in his hand, fireball having dispersed at Erik's assertion of authority. Mystique eyed him thoughtfully, then moved toward him, "you drink it--"

"No!" Pyro stepped back, "what if she's right? What if... what if I'm an alpha mutant? I'd survive this, wouldn't I?"

"Don't let pride, hubris, be your downfall," Erik ordered, "drink it!"

Pyro looked from Magento to Mystique and back again. Mumbling an excuse, he fled from the room.

Rushing down the hallway, Pyro made his way to what the gang used as the living room. He looked at the back of the couch and saw a familiar pair of black boots hanging over the edge. He made a move to leave but she spotted him before he could. "I found tequila if you want some." She offered, holding up a bottle. "You know, I never would have taken Erik as a tequila person." She mused.

Pyro hesitated, and then thought to himself, 'what the hell,' "I could use a drink." He said, plopping down on the couch beside her. Bolting down the first shot, he struggled to maintain a straight face at the burning taste on his tongue.

After a while of sitting in silence, Brenna looked at Johnny askance, "so. Did you take it?"

"No," Johnny said shortly, thrusting his cup to Brenna, "fill me up."

"Sir, yes sir!" Brenna saluted with the bottleneck, then poured Pyro a shot, "can I ask why?"

"Sure." Pyro responded.

"Why didn't you take it?"

Johnny grinned, crookedly. "Erik thinks it's a matter of pride. Maybe he's right."

Brenna huffed, "men! You're like peacocks. Big stupid peacocks!"

She took another shot before mumbling about men being arrogant.

Johnny laughed good-naturedly, the alcohol beginning to loosen his stress, "maybe so, but we do have soft egos. You kinda stomped on it like eggs."

Belting back yet another shot before handing him the bottle she looked at him, alcohol slowly taking control. "Aww, I'm sorry," she purred, moving closer to him "Is there any way I could, you know, make it up to you?"

Pyro's second head took an interest, "well, now that you mention it… I could use a bit of an ego soothing… you really hurt me."

Brenna moved in and began to kiss up his neck. "I'm sure I could figure out a way to stroke your ego."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure you could," Pyro couldn't remember how many shots of the tequila he'd had. Was it three? Four? He decided to drink one more to bolster his confidence. He searched for the cup that he had just a moment ago, and Brenna handed him the cup. "Thanks," he said.

"You know," Brenna murmured, "does it really matter if you are an alpha mutant or not? Why suffer the virus to prove the point?"

Pyro thought for a moment, and then took the shot. "I suppose…"

Brenna's fingers traced circles on the inside of his thigh teasingly.

John leaned back, spreading his knees at the touch. He wrapped his arm around Brenna, drawing her to him, pulling her onto his lap.

Brenna grinned ferally, straddling him as she began to kiss up and down his neck.

Johnny moaned his appreciation as her lips hit all his sensitive points on his neck, his fingers gripping her thighs right where they met the mounds of her butt. He drew her closer, cradling her curvaceous body to him, turning his head to bury his nose in her hair. Her hair smelled like fresh rain and something underneath was a musk that was wholly Brenna. He breathed it in, feeling it fill his lungs.

He gasped, feeling a sharp pain in his lungs, and he coughed. Brenna leaned back worried, "Johnny?"

"It hurts!" He gasped.

Brenna scrambled for her pendant and poured her tears into the cup, then splashed a bit of tequila in it. "Here, drink this, Johnny."

Johnny, who had been bent over coughing and hadn't seen Brenna doctor the drink, accepted the shot and chugged it back. The alcohol dulled the pain some, and the coughing stopped almost instantly.

"I'm sorry," Johnny said sheepishly.

"Forget about it," Brenna grinned toothily, "now. Where were we?"

"Where, indeed," Johnny replied, hands moving up her back then forward.

Brenna nibbled on his ear then whispered "My room, now," she ordered. Johnny picked her up obediently and moved down the hallway to Brenna's room. He hastily opened the door walked in and slammed it shut behind him.

That was the last thing Brenna solidly remembered.


	15. Chapter 15

Requiem For An Angel

Written by: hotaruchan2002 and Meg the fierce lady.

A/N: HA! Thought we'd stopped again huh? Surprise! We're on a roll, booyeah!

Meg: I have to say that much of the latter part was totally influenced by my acquiring and watching DVDs of the West Wing. I am no Sam Seaborn, but I do say I'm pretty spiffy myself. Bartlet for America!

Chapter Fifteen

"Issit working?" Toad asked, plugging in a wire. Sabretooth only growled. "All right, all right, I'm working on it," Toad demurred, hastily turning the laptop around and typing in some commands.

Suddenly a picture came on, and a most dastardly and sinister face appeared in the window. Toad meeped and leapt away to hide behind Sabretooth who was bigger and scarier. Or maybe just as scary. Or, not quite as scary.

"And who do we have here?" Mr. Sinister inquired, looking at the big brute on camera.

Sabretooth growled. Toad peeked out from behind, "M-Mr. Sinister, sir. We wish to make a deal. We have something that you want."

"And that would be?"

Sabretooth snarled. He turned and stomped to a chair that held a tied up and near comatose Remy LeBeau. Lifting Remy up, chair and all, he hauled his load back to the computer.

Mr. Sinister visibly brightened, for an emotionless automaton, and he smiled his terrible smile. "Hmmm, and just what do you wish in return?"

"As you can see, I have contracted your virus. It is a regrettable and uncomfortable condition for me to be in. I require a cure. As for my partner, I should imagine that he wants money and women."

"Money," Sabretooth rumbled, "I can get frails on my own. You want the kid, you pay the bounty on his head."

"I see," Mr. Sinister mulled things over in his head. "All right, but on one condition."

"What's that?" Toad inquired.

"There is a new mutant around your compound. One with ebony wings." Mr. Sinister said. "I wish to acquire some of her DNA. Get me this and the cure and money shall be yours."

"Seems like more work that we ain't getting' paid for." Sabretooth rumbled, "What's she worth to you?"

"Perhaps you should see it from my point of view, how much is the cure for the legacy virus worth to you?"

"Deal, deal," Toad hastily interjected.

"Have everything ready for tomorrow." Sinister said, and then moved to turn off his computer.

"Wait, where will we meet you?"

Mr. Sinister paused, annoyance beginning to show in his eyes, "don't call me, I'll call you." And with that, he disconnected.

Toad turned to Sabretooth and looked at him. "I guess it's time we got that sample, huh."

Creed's only answer was an annoyed growl.

Brenna woke up the next morning, her head hearing drums she knew as a child. Her mouth tasted like something crawled inside and died while farting.

A sudden noise beside her had her scrambling out of bed, falling on the floor and reaching for her knife next to her bed. She peaked cautiously at her bed and saw Pyro sleeping there, naked under her sheets. She looked down at herself to see she was also naked.

"Oh, by the seven levels of hell, what in Aidin did I do last night?" Brenna moaned, before noticing the marks of some rather passionate intercourse on her body.

Bite marks and minor burn marks darted her body. "What have I done?" Brenna whimpered, pulling herself up and moving towards a chair. Burying her head in her hands, things finally began to set in. She'd just cheated on Warren.

Granted, she was still angry with him, and also for granted that they were admittedly apart for the moment, but she had left him in anger, not in a dissolution of their relationship. She was sure that she loved Warren, and that he loved her in return. As well, judging by the taste in her mouth, the pounding in her head, and the tenting of parched skin, she had overindulged of alcohol the night previous. Surely that could excuse this indiscretion? Somehow, she felt that it didn't.

Pyro sat up in her bed, his head pounding as well. "So, last night was amazing." He said softly, not wanting to speak any louder for fear of his head exploding. Looking under the sheets, he grinned, "up for round 2?"

Brenna looked up at him, pain filling her eyes. "No," she whispered. She got up and began to collect her clothing. Brenna stopped for a moment and noticed his satisfied grin. She dropped her clothing and started collecting his.

She opened her window and threw them out. Pyro went to make a comment but Brenna merely grabbed him by his arm and pushed him out the door, leaving him standing there naked. The door slammed shut.

St. John stood there, both hands hiding his manhood, blinking. "So, that's a no, then?"

Once he was gone, she locked herself in her bathroom and started to cry, not knowing what else to do. Soon, she found herself leaning over the toilet, puking her guts up from the alcohol as well as the dishonour she had just done to Warren.

Magneto and Mystique stood in his office, looking out the window at the large crowd of mutants gathering. Brenna slipped into the room hoping to go unnoticed but ended up bashing into something that clattered on the floor. Brenna flinched, but tried to look casual about it.

Only Erik ignored the sound. Mystique turned back to look at Brenna, tense about the moment to come, "Erik is going to speak to the brethren. Are you up for it?" She asked, not unkindly.

Brenna stood up straight. "As ready as I'll ever be," she replied calmly.

With a wave of his hand, Erik opened the doors to the balcony, Mystique on his right and Brenna on his left, "brothers and sisters, friends all, my fellow mutants. We ask that you not be afraid in this troubling time. This wretched virus that is murdering our numbers can only be the work of the flatscans, the humans, the F.O.H! Only humans could devise something this horrifying, this evil!"

The crowd roared in angry agreement. Brenna scanned the crowd for any familiar faces while keeping her composure cool and calm. Erik paused to allow the crowd to calm down from their shouted clamour.

"I swear on my honour that this disgraceful action will not go unpunished. We will be swift, we will be righteous and we will be victorious! We will strike a blow against tyranny, and we will not stop until mutants are recognized as having a right to live! We will not fade into the night!"

The crowd roared, cheering. Kitty Pryde and Bobby Drake stood in the busy throng, disguised and watching.

"He's charismatic, I'll give him that," Kitty remarked to her companion.

"Charismatic, smarismatic," Bobby replied, "he's nuts." Bobby continued to look around when Kitty pulled on his arm.

"Isn't that Brenna? Warren's girlfriend?" She asked, pointing to Brenna standing beside Magneto.

"What is she doing there?!" Bobby exclaimed, and then he keyed his communicator, "Rogue, we got problems."

Marie, back at base hit the key, "what is it, Iceman?"

"Brenna's a mole. She's the enemy."

"Say again, Iceman," Rogue asked, disbelief in her voice. She better have all the facts before she talked to Warren.

"Brenna's a mole. She's standing next to Magneto." Bobby repeated. "Oh man, Warren's gonna be devastated."

"I know," Warren said, as he stepped into the room behind Rogue, "the whole thing's on the news.

"Okay, abort the mission," Rogue said, "there's no need for you to risk yourselves." Turning to Warren, "when did the news show up?"

"Just now, WHKN has it. CNN just picked it up."

"Copy that, Rogue." Bobby said before his com went silent.

"We need to alert Logan and Ororo about this," Rogue said, turning on the news. "They'll know what to do about this."

Meanwhile, Magneto stood on the balcony completely unaware of the X-Men in his midst. "We have with us today a formidable ally, one that I have known and been aided by a few times within my life." Magneto pulled Brenna beside him. "She is vengeance made flesh, justice in winged form."

"My brethren," Brenna said, clearing her throat. "Long have I seen the oppression of our kind. I say we shall stand in the homosapien shadow no longer! We shall dominate this planet as the gods and goddesses we are!" With her wings spread, hair blowing in the wind, she looked a veritable Goddess of Justice, a winged Nike come to earth. She looked powerful and inspirational. "Fear not this disease, for I shall provide a cure! I only ask that you remain faithful to the cause! We shall have dominion over this earth!"

Having finished her speech, Brenna pulled Mystique aside. "We seem to have a captive audience, not just here." She said, pointing discretely at a reporter and cameraman.

"Yes, this can only be to our advantage," Mystique replied, "We wish to strike everywhere, not just here."

Somewhere in the crowd, someone started the chant, the rallying cry, echoed in glorious refrain by the surrounding mutants, 'til all in attendance pounded their fists in the air, crying out: "Mutant Domination! Mutant Domination! Mutant Domination!"

Erik Lehnsherr stood silently, watching over his people with something that seemed like pride in his eyes. Brenna watched silently, and only hoped that he would not fall prey to hubris. The fear of hubris, that prideful fall, was an irony of which Brenna was unaware in relation to Magneto. Magneto had warned Pyro of this pride only the day before, after Brenna had made her exit from the conversation. An act of idiocy that she had corrected before the evils of the drink had blanked the rest of her memories. Pyro had woken up well and cured. She had that much, if not for the shame of her indiscretion.

She sighed, "I fear the follies of the youth…"

Magneto smiled, misunderstanding the true meaning of her quote, before turning and walking back into his lair.

"… And that my young body with its hormones and chemicals influence me to be the same," Brenna finished quietly and to herself.

Brenna and Mystique followed behind him, Brenna taking one final look at the crowd. The windows closed behind her but she spotted two people running away from the group. She squinted and realized who they were. Brenna turned back to Magneto and debated whether to tell him.

Brenna decided it was better left unsaid and awaited the next move in their plans.


	16. Chapter 16

Requiem For An Angel

Written by: hotaruchan2002 and meg the fierce lady

A/N:   
Meg: Let me just state for the record that during the writing of this chapter, I missed the heck out of Scott Summers and wished he were here and not where I suspect him to be… (Hint: Redd and Slym!) (Is in denial of his death!!) Also, writing Sabretooth and Toad? Good times.

Chapter Sixteen

Rogue was ready to connect the communicator to the X-Jet, and piggyback on carrier waves from the satellite conveniently located in a precise place, when there was a sudden presence in her mind. She hadn't felt this _presence_ since...it couldn't be?

"Professor?" She stuttered out, "you're alive?"

Warren looked up, "oh, yeah, forgot to tell you-"

Rogue shushed him with a wave of her hand, "you sound really far away, professor."

"If any normal person were to walk in on this, they'd swear you were talking to yourself," Warren whispered, jokingly.

Rogue glared at him, then looked shocked, "you're in Scotland?" 

Rogue shook her head. "We need to pass on a message to Logan and Ororo. We need them back here. Trouble's brewing with Magneto and we'll need all the help we can get."

"This is worse than listening to one side of a phone call," Warren mused, "somehow, it just is."

Rogue shot him another glare. "Thank you, Professor." Rogue shook her head to clear it. "You're a real pest you know that, Warren?"

"I aim to misbehave," Warren smiled flirtatiously.

"Warren," Rogue scowled "I'm with Bobby, you're with Brenna."

"I'm not so sure about that," Warren said gloomily, "since apparently my girl's working for the enemy."

"Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding?" Rogue tried to sooth. 

Warren laughed hollowly, "maybe, or maybe things are exactly what they look like."

"In time wounds will heal." Rogue said, hoping to help a hurting friend.

"I'm sorry, Rogue, I shouldn't be dumping this on you. Or flirting." Warren smiled weakly, and turned away.

Rogue went to say something, but knew that Warren needed to be alone. She held her tongue and watched him leave the room.

Warren stalked to his room, wondering, hoping Brenna was thinking of him. 

Brenna sat on the edge of her bed looking at a newspapers clipping photo of Warren. A knock came at her door and Mystique entered. Brenna hurriedly shoved the picture under her pillow. "Yes, Mystique?" 

"Magneto says it's time to move out." Mystique replied solemnly.

Brenna rose from her spot on the bed, "right, time to take our rightful place in the world.

"Bring it on."

Logan and Ororo sprinted across the lawn to the jet, hoping they could get back to the States as soon as possible.

"So Rogue said that Magneto's makin' a move, darlin'?" Logan asked as he ran, not even out of breath for the speed and duration of the sprint.

"Yes, and apparently we had a mole in our midst." Ororo replied, breathing hard as they climbed into the jet.

"Feathers? I thought everyone knew," Logan said.

Ororo stopped abruptly. "You knew?" she growled, looking at Logan. 

"Well, I smelled her, she's old, smelled of old metal head and the blue lady. Why would she have any interest in sniffing around our place if she wasn't hired to do so? Also, I saw her in Jeannie and Scooter's room taking their hairbrushes and toothbrushes. I figured she was gathering those things for some other purpose than kleptomania, because she didn't take anything else. I was gonna tell you, but you got yourself kidnapped. Then later, she left the group—" 

"You chased her away on purpose?" Ororo realized.

"Well, that wasn't entirely my aim, but I suppose that did the trick." 

"So what was your initial aim then?" Ororo asked as she started the jet, "tear her up into pieces before she could do anything?" 

"Well, no… Hell's bells, woman, she put the team in danger running off half-cocked like that. Her type, being loners, she didn't really take into account the others there. Which is understandable since she hadn't been in a combat situation with our people before. I'm starting to understand Scooter and his maniacal obsession with Danger Room sessions a little more."

"It is okay, Logan," Ororo spoke in her calm dulcet tones, "I miss him, too. He was my brother in arms, and my friend."

After a moment's silence, Ororo started up the jet's VTOL, "so, what's the plan, then?" She asked, attempting to cover her shaky voice.

"We use Feathers to our advantage, and our one weapon against her…" Logan trailed off.

"Warren." 

Remy was bored. The situation he was currently in was the worst part: the waiting. He sat, still tied to the chair and really needing to pee. Sabretooth hadn't been sympathetic to his plight, and Remy didn't trust the Toad not to do anything nasty to him while relieving himself, so he held it in. He was good at that, like a camel, able to hold his water for extremely long periods.

"Hein, hommes?" Remy attempted, "can't interest you in a rousing game of poker? Seven-card stud? Go fish?"

"How about asshole?" Sabretooth rumbled, holding his claws up threateningly, "as in tearing you a new one?"

"Sorry," Remy drawled, "don't know that one."

Mortimer started snickering at that.

Sabretooth growled, taking a threatening step forward. There was nothing for Remy to do, but quote the Great one. No, not Gretsky...

"Go ahead, make my day."

Clint Eastwood, one helluva guy.

Sabretooth growled, ever the impatient one. Toad was impatient too, but in comparison to Sabretooth's near frenetic pacing, Toad was as placid as his namesake. Of course, being unable to move without causing himself pain helped maintain his phlegmatic profile.

"When is he coming? I could be drinking beer right now," Sabretooth growled.

"Ah, Vic, the simple life: drinking beer, getting into fights and sleeping with women. You have it so easy," Toad said with no little bitterness.

"Y' havin' trouble wit' de femmes, hein?" Remy asked, "they be more trouble 'n they're worth, sometimes, neh?"

Sabretooth growled at Remy

"What he said," Toad agreed.

Remy sat there, looking around. Was this to be his end? Tied up waiting to be handed over to a vile mutant? Oh, the angst, the agony of waiting, what a moment of perdition.

"No offense, guys, but… I'm bored," Remy whined.

"You're bored..." Toad replied, growing very, very impatient. Where were these people Sinister was sending? "Right now I could be eating birds. Raw."

"Forget I said anything," Remy gulped.

Suddenly, there was a crackling in the air, something humming and vibrating the very air, like electricity was alive and writhing in place. It was, Remy recognized with mounting horror, a tesseract. A doorway. Mr. Sinister was coming. The boogeyman was coming for him.

Then suddenly, two forms appeared, Scalphunter and Arclight.

It was, Remy mused, rather anticlimactic… at least, for him. Also, rather insulting.

"'ey, I t'ink I merit Mr. Sinister getting me personally, not the hired help."

"Whelp, you get what you get, old son," Scalphunter said, sauntering over to Remy. "How you been, kid?"

"I've been doin' pretty good up 'til this point." Remy replied, looking at Scalphunter.

Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed.

"I knew I should've checked the weather channel before coming out here today," Toad groaned, as it started raining.

"Do you know what happens to a toad, when it is struck by lightning?" 

"Aw crap, not again." Toad groaned.

"Same thing as the last time I zapped you, you little bugger!

"WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!" Finished the irate wind rider goddess, with a shower of sparkling lightning.

"Ma cherie, y' be a sight for sore eyes. Êtes-vous venu pour me sauver?"

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Ororo replied as her eyes went white. A bolt of lightning struck at Toad, frying him to a near crisp. Using that time, Ororo rushed forward and freed the poor Cajun. "Et oui, j'ai."

Remy gallantly bowed and place a kiss on Ororo's hand, "merci beaucoups, ma belle."

Ororo raised an eyebrow at such theatrics, but shook it off, "come on!" she shouted, waving at Remy to follow her. Being one to know when to be a sheep, Remy followed closely behind Storm. 

Arclight attempted to stop them, letting loose with her powers, while Scalphunter started throwing his knives. Sabretooth snarled and raced after the weather witch.

He had a score to settle with that frail.

Earlier that evening:

Ororo Munroe raced toward the setting sun, breaking the sound barrier over the Atlantic Ocean. Somehow, for Logan, this ride was more nerve wracking.

_Ororo…_ Professor Xavier's voice echoed in Storm's mind.

_Yes, Professor?_ Ororo replied.

_I sense a mind in dire need of your assistance in the company of Toad and Sabretooth…_

Just like that, Ororo had a new mission and it was one she would gladly carry out. She wasn't the sort to be taken by grudges, but if she were, she definitely had a bone to pick with those two.

"Logan, will you be able to land on your own?"

"'Ro?" Logan asked, startled.

"I must make my way to Maryland, though I should join you and the children at Magneto's stronghold relatively soon."

"How are you gettin' there?" Logan asked, then muttered, "nevermind," when he saw Ororo Munroe, a.k.a. Storm, a.k.a. the Weather Witch rise from her seat and call a great gust of wind. As she opened the hatch, Logan fought to compensate for cabin pressure.

With his sharp ears, Logan heard Ororo call faintly over the roar, "Goddess be with you, and good luck!"

Hitting the button to close the hatch after she had soared away, Logan reciprocated in kind, "luck to you, 'Ro."

For a heart stopping moment, Ororo was buffeted by the wind helter skelter, before she righted herself. Calling forth a directional wind beneath her bunched fabric, she supported herself and flew west, toward the setting sun.

Good luck, Ororo, Xavier's voice echoed in her mind once again then the connexion faded.

Her destination firmly in mind, Ororo rode the winds to the future.


	17. Chapter 17

Requiem For An Angel

Written by: hotaruchan2002 and meg the fierce lady

A/N: Hotaru: The end is near!!!!!Gets out sign Prepare for the end, for it is nigh!

Meg: Ooooook, that's the last time we let you downtown and talk to crazies.

Chapter Seventeen

Warren walked towards the chaos, praying to find Brenna. A fireball flew past his face, singeing a few feathers. He whipped around to find a grinning Pyro watching him.

"So, you must be Warren." He smirked, taking a few steps towards him. "You're not someone I could see Brenna with."

"Excuse me?" Warren asked, moving closer, wings fluttering.

"You're a pretty boy." Pyro continued his taunting. "No wonder she never slept with you. She needed a bad boy to fulfill her rough lust."

Warren stopped in his tracks. "You lie!"

"No," Pyro grinned, "best lay I've had in a while. She's got this whole wild woman thing going on in bed."

Warren launched himself towards Pyro, tackling him backwards to the ground. 

Warren landed a few solid punches before Pyro pushed up against him, pushing him off.

Pyro pulled his hand back, getting a fireball ready to launch at Warren. Before he could send it flying, a hand grabbed his wrist and wrenched it backwards, creating a small snap. Pyro looked up to see Brenna holding his wrist.

"Young people these days, they have so much to learn." She snarled, throwing him aside. She moved to Warren. "And you!"

"What the-- Brenna, he's the enemy!" Pyro shouted, cradling his wounded arm.

The two, looking so much like angels launched themselves to do aerial battle.

"Before you say anything, let me just tell you that I was drunk when he and I had sex..." Brenna stopped "Wow, that has got to be the worst sounding excuse ever. How the hell do homo sapiens manage to say that and mean it." Brenna shook her head, and she took a deep breath. "As for whose side I'm on; I've chosen a side that will win! Your so-called X-Men do nothing but coddle humans in the hopes of acceptance. Erik shares the same vision as I. I have been alive through many centuries and all I've seen is persecution and death of our brethren.

"We deserve better.

"We believe we are higher than mere humans because of our gifts, our talents, our gifts from the gods! Join me Warren, join the winning side!"

Ororo Munroe raced toward the complex, Remy right behind her, throwing kinetically charged items at their pursuers.

"Where we be goin', chere?" Remy asked over the sound of the explosions and their running footsteps.

Ororo did not have time to reply as a tesseract opened right in front of them. No amount of kinetic, or gravitational force could've stopped them from flying through.

"Where are we, what happened?" Ororo wondered aloud, having this been the first time she had ever traveled by tesseract. Remy knew the feeling all too well.

"This be the den of iniquity," Remy murmured, dismally, "and we be trapped in the mad scientist's lair. We must get away!" 

"Really, Remy, must you attempt to leave so quickly after I have tried so hard to retrieve you like a recalcitrant child?"

"Mr. Sinister!" Remy hissed, spinning on his heel and stretching his arms out to shield Ororo at his back. He was deathly afraid of this being, but he would not like to watch the evil doctor put his hands on her.

"Yes, you know my name. It seems that you and I haven't formally introduced, Ororo Munroe."

"Show your face, and I'll gladly introduce myself to you with a thousand volts of lightning."

Mr. Sinister stepped out from the shadows and smiled his devastating shark toothed smirk. "If you would restrain your urge to shock me with your electrical impulses, and if it would behoove yourself to, then I might request the honour of your accompaniment with me as I give you the full tour of my laboratory, my lady. Dear Remy, do come as well."

"I would rather you show us the exit," Ororo growled.

"I should rephrase," Mr. Sinister said, "that was not a request." 

"Neither was mine."

Mr. Sinister stared at her for a moment, his red eyes blank and unseeing. Then he tilted his head back and laughed, a garish and inhuman cackle. "Ah, my dear, you do amuse me. I hold the cards in this particular hand, and you really have no choice but to fold. 

"Marauders, come."

At Mr. Sinister's order, the Marauders escorted Ororo and Remy throughout the base. Arclight and Scalphunter had joined them, having arrived by tesseract that Mr. Sinister had formed to return them to base. Mr. Sinister guided the duo through his laboratory, passing the cages with victims still inside them in various states of decay and suffering. The dead had obviously died of the Legacy plague.

Ororo eyed the lab with a critical eye, hoping to find the cure for the Legacy virus. This was an unexpected advantage she must press. In the lair of the serpent, the anti-venom was within her grasp. She fought the urge to start looking at the phials, throwing them as she went. Subtlety must be exercised in that circumstance, Ororo knew.

Mr. Sinister, bless his black little villain heart, provided the means of procurement of the cure. What provenance was it, Ororo mused, that forced villains to commit the sin of pride and gloat? It was an opportune moment, and Ororo looked to Remy, hoping that he could do something that would allow her to slip the phial from Mr. Sinister's hand.

Remy, bless his Cajun heart, nodded and was about to provide a distraction, when with a loud bang, Toad and Sabretooth stormed in.

"Where's my cure?!" Toad shouted.

"Where's my money?!" Sabretooth growled menacingly.

Ororo slipped the phial into her pocket and called forth an electrical storm inside the lab, wreaking havoc with the technology, while Remy set off his explosions by sending his charge through small bits of things he could get his hands on. In the melee that followed, Ororo and Remy raced for the exit.

Arclight and Scalphunter, along with the other marauders had their hands full with an angry mountain lion and a tongue whipping, gunk-spitting Toad.

Unbeknownst to Ororo and Remy, they treaded the same path that Magneto had taken only a few days previous, breaking the locks of the cages that held mutants in. Once free of the cages, they could use their mutant powers once again and added to the cacophony around them.

Once outside, Ororo called the strongest winds she could and flew Remy and herself a short distance away. Once in the air, Ororo oriented herself and realized where she was.

They landed, and Ororo spoke to Remy, "we are not far from the stronghold of Magneto. I thank you for your aid in fleeing from that mad doctor, but I do not ask you to join me in fighting if you do not wish it."

"Ah, chere, Remy follow y' radiance to the ends o' de earth, if'n he could."

Ororo smiled blindingly at him, her pleasure seeming to make the sun shine even brighter.

They nodded to each other as they turned to race for the final battle, an unspoken agreement to fight at each other's side as comrades and the newly made bond of friendship.


	18. Chapter 18

Requiem For An Angel

Written by: hotaruchan2002 and meg the fierce lady

A/N: Hotaru: Omg I can't believe it's over... I'd like to thank the goddess for all the support she gave me, and my family, but most of all my lovely and talented co-authoress, whom without her help this never would have gotten off the ground...  
Meg: Yay! And I'm spent. Also, we totally pulled the application of the cure out of our asses. Well, actually my ass, but we think it sounds good, if not realistic. But hey, it's a comic/movie fiction thingy... it's not realistic anyway.

Chapter Eighteen

Night was rapidly falling, and with the advent of darkness heralded the arrival of the two angels, like day meets night. Warren dived from the high altitudes with Brenna, and shocked the x-men when they reached the battlefield. Their prior argument had escalated to fighting and they spun and danced in the air, each trying to actively harm the other.

"Why won't you side with me, Warren? We are gods! We have a right to rule this world!"

"Brenna, we aren't gods!" Warren protested as he dodged a powerful blow from Brenna.

"Homo sapiens thoughts!" Brenna roared. "Leave them behind, Warren. Free yourself!"

"Brenna," Warren tried a different tack, "we may be mutants, but we're still human! We mustn't forget where we came from! My parents are human, homo sapiens, but I don't think I'm better than them! It took me a long time to see that what I have is a gift. And it's a gift that my parents gave me, that my father gave me."

"But he tried to cure you!" Brenna growled, "he tried to cure all of us. Forget him, Warren. You're perfect, perfect to be my angel." 

"Brenna!" Warren reached out and wrapped her in a huge hug, wincing as she struggled, fists against his chest, "I don't want to rule them," Warren murmured, "I want to thank them. I want to serve them as an X-Man, as Warren Worthington the Third of Worthington Industries, donating to charities and saving lives, humans and mutants alike. I forgive them."

"Look, Brenna!" Ororo commanded, as she soared the winds to their dizzying heights, "look at what your collusion with Mr. Sinister and Magneto has done! People are dying! The legacy virus is destroying our mutant brothers and sisters!"

Brenna looked around her, at the confusion and death. The world that surrounded her was chaos and destruction. "No," she said, slowly, horror infusing her voice. "No! This isn't what was supposed to happen!" She screamed as she started to fly higher. Once again looking down, tears stinging her eyes, "we're supposed to be revered as gods!" The tears blurred the violence below.

There was a shout, but only Ororo heard. She spun midair to see what was the matter. The newcomer, the mutant known as Gambit raised his hands. Ororo sank down to him, "Gambit?"

"The disease, she is an airborne infection."

"Of course," Ororo exclaimed, "then it must follow the cure is also airborne." Ororo turned her head to the sky where Brenna was shouting.

The violence that was happening, Brenna hadn't wanted, that violence which begets violence. "We were supposed to be worshipped!" she screamed. "Worshipped! That's all I wanted!"

Logan looked up with his strong eyesight to see Brenna hovering several thousand feet above the battlefield, watching everything. What struck him as odd was the greenish glow around her. He heard someone shout her name from his right. He turned to see Warren frantically searching for her.

Warren launched himself upwards. He approached Brenna cautiously. "Brenna," Warren soothed. "Please, calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down!" Brenna seethed. "This is not my idea of being worshipped, people are dying, not praising me!"

"Do you know what the definition of worship is?" Warren said, moving closer. "It means to love unconditionally. I love you, Brenna, I worship you."

"W-what was that?" Brenna trembled, looking at him through tear-filled eyes.

"You heard me, with those perfect ears," Warren drew closer to her, "I love you. I want to be with you all the days of my life."

"Are you sure, Warren?" Brenna slid away. "After everything I've done, everything I've said."

"Do you even have to ask?" Warren smiled at her, drifting closer and reassuringly cuddling her closer, "I love you more than I love flying, I love you. You are the wind under my wings."

"Brenna!" Ororo cried moving up towards the pair. She held out the antidote in her outstretched hand, "this is the cure!"

"What do you expect me to do?!" Brenna cried out, "they're all dying, and even I with all my power cannot stop it! I cannot cry enough to save them!"

"Brenna, this cure is airborne!" Ororo explained, "we must aerosolize it to distribute it evenly to everyone here. We have limited time. We must hurry!"

"Uh," Brenna paused to think hurriedly, and then her eyes lit up, "Ororo, heat the cure up and make it evaporate! Then rain it down on everyone! I'll try to do my part with my powers!"

"Are you positive this will work?" Ororo asked, looking at the only vial in her hand, "we only have one shot at this!"

Brenna looked at Warren, and then back to Ororo, "I'm positive! Come on, we don't have much time left!"

"Okay," Ororo agreed, focusing on the vial. She unstoppered it and held it up to the air. She let the glass go, trusting the powerful winds to hold it aloft. She strained her powers to the limit as the winds increased, buffeting the winged ones away. The liquid turned to gas and flowed up out of the vial. Ororo released her emotions, set free her tears of pain, of horror at the suffering below.

Brenna wept. She wept her tears of anger and sorrow and pain. Brenna took her cure from there and let her tears flow as well. She cried for her brethren who were dying now, of those she lost over the centuries. 

The skies were dark with Storm's emotions, once firmly held in check, now let free. The rain began to fall, and Brenna's tears mingled with the pure cleansing drops from the heavens.

"Logan!" Ororo cried as the rain fell on the infected, it wasn't quick, but it was noticeable within moments. The symptoms of the Legacy virus were diminishing, receding from their skin.

Logan looked around them, seeing the others stop fighting and watching awed as everyone started getting...better.

"No!" Mr. Sinister cried, as he viewed the ruination of his entire long life's work, "I wanted to create a better world!" Knowing his plan foiled, he created a tesseract and vanished. Arclight, Scalphunter, Vertigo and the rest of the Marauders raced to be swallowed by the portal before it vanished.

Warren lowered Brenna and himself to the ground, Logan and Ororo running to join them.

"Look at the good you have done, Brenna," Ororo said, waving her hand at the crowd.

"It can never make up for it," Brenna said in a guilt-choked voice, "I still believe that we deserve to be treated better than we have been so far."

"No one's disagreein' with ya, Feathers," Logan rumbled, "but thinkin' as gods is taking it a little far."

"I guess I just never changed with the times," Brenna sighed. "You'd think after all those rebirths I would have caught on with the times."

"Rebirths?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Brenna's shoulders curved up and she shrunk from the scrutiny, "remember when I told you I was ten thousand years old?"

"That vaguely rings a bell," Logan said sardonic as the incident had occurred only two days previous.

"Brenna, what are you saying?"

Brenna smiled, "I'm the real slim shady!" she smirked a little childishly. Then she sobered, "I don't remember, exactly, how old I am, what my first life was, but I died long ago," her eyes were distant, "I remember flames- my funeral pyre. They burned my flesh, but did not hurt me. I was ashes. My people found an infant amidst the black char. They raised me and revered me, and I became known as the Phoenix."

"That would explain the healing tears," Ororo added. "Phoenixes of legends are often associated with those kinds of tears."

"You don't mind dating an ancient mutant do you, Warren?" Brenna said, looking him in the eyes.

"So things are good between us then?" Warren inquired, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"For now." She grinned, then kissed him.

"Yes, for now," Logan said, "until the next crisis. The next disaster. The next—"

"Okay, Logan, we get the point!"

Brenna punched Logan playfully in the arm, then looped her arm around Warren's. Their moment of happiness was shattered by a female scream. The four ran over to where the scream originated, and found Rogue standing over Piotr Rasputin. She was covered in a metallic skin that slowly faded away.

"Rogue!" Logan instinctively raced to her side. She flinched away. 

"Sluchilos!" she said, hysterically, "I am not dead am I?"

"Rogue?" 

"Piotr." 

Brenna looked her over, while Ororo looked over Piotr.

"He's still alive," Ororo said, looking up.

"Rogue, I know you're still in there, come on out." Brenna added, "my tears, they must have healed her as well."

Ororo assessed the situation. "I think it would be best to get everyone back to the mansion, so we can get Piotr the help he needs." 

Ororo instructed Logan to pick up Colossus carefully and take him into the mansion, followed by Rogue who was now being escorted by Bobby, and Warren and Brenna.

It was night when they finally returned to the Mansion. The rain died down and everyone felt relieved. Logan didn't know who first put forth the idea of a party, but around ten, it was in full swing. Rogue was sitting on the couch, fully swaddled in her long sleeved full body suit once again. She confessed that she hadn't thrown it away, but put it in the back of her closet.

It was sad for everyone to hear this. It meant that Rogue hadn't felt like what she had would last. Like she expected to be kicked when she was down.

Logan wasn't sure whether or not that twinge in his stomach was just bad sushi or just an almost long forgotten emotion of dismay that his Marie hadn't felt secure that her mutancy was truly gone. But one look at Rogue and he felt the worry drift away. He had missed her. 

Ororo stood, flute of white wine in her hand as she chatted with Remy LeBeau, the newest stray to be taken in. Logan growled, but stayed away. He liked the pup, but not standing that close to 'Ro. 

Brenna stood in the doorway looking at everyone, smiling and having a good time. She couldn't help but smile at this.

She could feel Warren's presence behind her, and that made her feel safe. Suddenly she felt something cool around her neck. She looked down and there was a pair of silver wings attached to a chain.

Brenna turned to face Warren, one hand tracing the wings. "Warren, what's this for?"

"It's our connection," Warren said, tenderly stroking her wing, enjoying the feel of the soft down, and the tremor as Brenna felt the pressure there. "Your wings were the first thing I ever saw, they drew me to you. Do I need a reason to give you pretty things? I love you." 

Brenna smiled contently. She leaned over to his ear and whispered, "your room or mine, cause I really need some...relief."

Warren whispered back, "meet you at mine in 10 minutes," he said, and then he casually walked away. Brenna grinned and made her way over to Logan. She wound one arm around his waist. She took his hand and placed something in it, covering it up with his fingers before he had a chance to see what it was.

"Thanks for being there and looking out for me." She smiled, kissing him lightly on the cheek. She turned and began walking away, "just for the record, wings can also be very good supports, if you ever need someone to talk to."

Brenna disappeared around the corner and Logan opened his hand. There in his palm lay a silver claddagh ring with the inscription that read 'guardian angel' in Gaelic on it.


End file.
